


What Would Matilda Do Now?

by hansolo



Series: WWMD [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Harry and Hermione are twins, Harry and Hermione have a lot of pets, Harry is tired but also a feral, Hermione is a bit of a feral at times, Hogwarts Third Year, Matilda - Freeform, Multi, Potter Twins, Quidditch, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Politics, Snape continues to be an inept mentor, sirius black is a drama queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 71,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hansolo/pseuds/hansolo
Summary: Harry and Hermione Potter, known more commonly in the Wizarding World as The-Twins-Who-Lived (and now in some circles as the Heirs of Slytherin), have now survived two years at Hogwarts.Third year is just around the corner, where they are more determined than ever to keep shaking the magical world to its core. As they grow into their power, the whispers that surround them get thicker.They should enjoy the freedom of the summer while it lasts, because the Grim stalks at every step, and not even a Seer can tell just what that means for the Twins.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter
Series: WWMD [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803064
Comments: 277
Kudos: 429





	1. Summer Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> A quick little chapter to kick off Third Year.  
> I'm super excited about writing this one.  
> I hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

It was Summer and Harry and Hermione were relaxing in the meadow, their new cacophony of pets with them. Having escaped Professor Snape that day on the platform, they’d gone straight to Diagon Alley to get an owl so they could actually start communicating with friends over the holidays.

In the absence of anyone or anything to hold them back, and an enormous vault of money, they’d promptly gone a bit mad in Magical Menagerie, and now owned five pets. The store itself had been absolutely jampacked, every inch of wall hidden by cages full of occupants that squeaked and squawked and jabbered and hissed. There were puffskeins and pygmy puffs, rats, bats, and cats, kneazles and toads, as well as owls and snakes. Harry had immediately fallen in love with a beautiful Snowy Owl that he'd named Hedwig and didn’t look at anything else in the store. Hermione, on the other hand, loved every single thing and wanted all of them. Harry had been talking her out of buying a pair of ravens when something huge and orange had come soaring out of nowhere and landed on his head. This turned out to be his first introduction with Hermione’s newest love, an old, cranky, half-Kneazle ginger cat named Crookshanks. Harry thought the cat was an atrocity with its oddly squashed face, and Hermione thought it was the best, most gorgeous cat ever. She’d also picked up a Bowtruckle who was still living in her hair. Harry had jokingly called him Beau and the name had stuck.

All seven of their mad little family were currently out in the meadow. Hedwig was flying with Harry as he swooped around on his broom. Kid and Ty had a love-hate relationship with Crookshanks and the three of them were currently chasing each other around in an odd game of tag. Beau was in Hermione’s hair.

Hermione smiled up at the sky. < These summer holidays are going to be a dream, Me. >


	2. Ball and Chain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing ...... Sirius Black (aka the literature love of my life)  
> I'll never be over it, he deserved so much better. In all those quizzes, he's the one I always choose to bring back to life.  
> Anyway, here's chapter 2
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

Sirius shifted back, his bones cracking as he forced himself back into his human misery. Just in time as the footsteps approached his cell.

“Black,” came a voice.

He turned, keeping a disinterested look on his face, looking up at the man. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, his lime green bowler hat giving him away.

“Minister,” he acknowledged with a nod of his head. “Doing your annual inspection, I see.” He could see the fear in Fudge’s eyes.

“Yes,” Fudge said uncertainly.

“Well, the food could be better,” Sirius said. “Otherwise, no complaints from me.” He grinned but the brief flash of joy he felt at the small step Fudge took back was quickly devoured by his prison guards. “Say, if you’re done with that paper, do you think I could have it? I do miss doing the crosswords.”

The paper was unceremoniously thrust through the bars and Fudge hurried away. Sirius tossed the paper onto his bed and promptly shifted back, more comfortable in his other form.

-/-

Several hundred miles away, a majestic eagle owl swooped down on Potter Manor, letting out a loud screech to herald his arrival. The owl gave another loud screech as a girl with messy curly hair came out and gave the bird a suspicious glance.

< Some fancy ass bird is here, Me, > she shouted over the bond as she took a letter from the proffered claw. The eagle owl huffed before taking off again.

< Oh nice, what’s Neville got to say now? > Harry said as Hermione wandered back inside.

< I said fancy ass bird. Neville has a normal owl and I’m not expecting another letter from him so soon anyway, > Hermione replied.

Neville was off in Greece with his grandmother. He’d written to them excitedly a few times about the various plants he’d encountered along the way, including an essay length description of some type of magic seaweed. He wouldn’t be back until mid-August, but they had plans to get together then at Longbottom Manor.

< Oh, > Harry said. < Well, not to be obvious, but you’ll need to open the letter, Mi. > Hermione scowled at him and promptly ripped the letter open.

< Ugh, it’s a letter from Draco, > Hermione said.

Harry plucked it out of her hand before she could set it on fire and started reading. He looked up nervously at his sister when he finished.

< What? > she said stonily.

< You’re **really** not going to like this, > Harry said, the bond humming in agreeance.

< Gods give me patience, just tell me, and I’ll go out and destroy something later, > Hermione said.

< They’re holding a ball, > Harry said.

Hermione gave him a withering look. < Draco told us that on the fucking train, Me. >

< It’s in our honour and it’s on our birthday, > he quickly spat out before taking several steps backwards.

Hermione stood as still as a statue, staring in horror at her brother. Beau peeked his head out as her hair started to spark at the ends. < Me Me, our birthday’s in five days. >

Harry flicked the letter towards her. With growing horror, she read the flowing calligraphy.

_Harry and Hermione. I apologise for the lateness of this letter, but I only returned from France recently. My parents are holding their annual Summer Ball on July 31st, and in acknowledgement of your heroic accomplishments this year, wish to honour you directly. I know you’ve never been to a Ball before, so to make everything easier for you, my mother and I have arranged everything for you, including clothes. The plan will be for you to come in the morning so that I can show you around our Manor and introduce you to my parents. I’m looking forward to seeing you both. Fondest regards, Draco Malfoy (Heir to House Malfoy)_

Hermione was, rarely for her, completely speechless. Harry equally had no thoughts beyond a general feeling of utter dismay.

“A ball,” Hermione said out loud after a very long pause.

“In our honour,” Harry said.

“At Malfoy Manor.”

“Where Lucius Malfoy lives.”

“Dancing.”

“Socialising.”

“Maybe we died. Maybe the Basilisk did kill us, and now we’re in Hell,” Hermione mused.

-/-

Sirius stared in abject horror and fury at the newspaper, the rage curling through his veins making him feel more alive than he had in over a decade.

The innocuous headline read “MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE” and detailed how Arthur Weasley (Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office) had won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. It was accompanied by a picture of him and his entire family in Egypt, visiting their eldest son, Bill, who was a curse-breaker there for Gringotts. The article reported they’d be spending the summer there, before returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, where five of the Weasley children currently attended.

But there, right in the middle of the picture, on the shoulder of one of the Weasley sons sat a rat. Sirius growled, baring all his teeth. He couldn’t believe it, thought maybe Azkaban had finally done its job and sent him utterly totally mad. But he’d recognise that rat anywhere, right down to the final giveaway of its missing toe.

“Harry and Hermione,” Sirius whispered, a lightning bolt going through him. He rarely thought of his godchildren – they were one of his few bright memories and so he kept them squashed deep inside his mind where the guards couldn’t take them. His eyes flicked back and forth between the rat and the sentence that read they’d be returning to Hogwarts, his mind slowly realising what that meant.

The fire continued to burn through him until he feared he might actually combust, but his mind felt the clearest it had in years.

“He’s at Hogwarts,” he said, his mind furiously churning through different plans.

-/-

< What if - >

< We are going to the ball, > Harry interrupted. < You’re not breaking my bloody arm. >

< What about your leg? > Hermione asked.

< Mi, for fucksake. Can you give me one rational excuse for us not going to a ball that is being thrown in our honour on our birthday by someone we are meant to be very good friends with, whose parents are – for better or worse – considered to be high ranking members of society? > Harry said bluntly.

< Yes, but then he betrayed us, which we still haven’t dealt with, and his father gave the fucking soul-sucking Diary to an innocent girl! > Hermione screeched.

< And NONE of that is public knowledge, > Harry replied. < And we can’t exactly make it public knowledge now, can we? We have no proof whatsoever, not even Dumbledore seemed to properly understand the magic behind the Diary. >

< I don’t want to go, > Hermione said.

< Neither do I, but it would be incredibly rude if we didn’t attend this ball, without coming up with a rational excuse, which so far, we have failed to do, > Harry said, throwing up his hands. < We’ve been going over this for over a day now. And Mi heart, even you have been unable to come up with something rational. Unfortunately, I suspect that the Malfoys are well aware of this. I have no doubt this invitation was deliberately delivered late. They have gone out of their way to make it hard for us to escape this. If we were nobodies, then it wouldn’t bloody matter. But to start with, we’re the fucking Twins-Who-Lived, and then – to our entire House, I add - we publicly declared ourselves to be the Heirs of Slytherin. We then gave a very loud speech about … well, essentially our plans to change society. We’re out of the cupboard, Mi Mi. We can’t go back in. >

Hermione stomped outside to go and incinerate something.

-/-

The fire kept him warm in the harsh sea, her dark depths calling out hauntingly to him as he battled with everything he had to reach the distant shore.

He collapsed onto the pebbled beach, letting out a soft howl as he gazed up at the stars.

Freedom, at last.

-/-

< Get off the bus, > Harry said.

< What if it’s a trap? > Hermione said.

< You spent the last two days coming up with at least ten different escape plans, > Harry replied. < Give up, we’re here. Get off the bus. I know danger stalks us at every turn, but I’m pretty sure, in this moment, no-one is out to get us. >

Hermione stomped off the bus, casting one last look behind her, before trudging after her brother.


	3. Tea? No, Truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

The twins headed up a wide driveway, a high hedge curving along with the road, and before long came to a pair of impressive wrought-iron gates, the hedge continuing off into the distance beyond. Harry glanced at Hermione before tentatively reaching out and pushing on the gate. At once, part of the iron gate contorted into a face that peered at the pair. “What is your business here?” the face asked haughtily.

“Err … We’re Harry and Hermione P-Potter,” he said, phrasing it almost as a question. “We’re here to visit Draco Malfoy.”

< Against our will, > Hermione muttered.

The gates silently opened, the face disappearing back into the metalwork. They continued up the driveway slowly when Hermione caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She wrenched her wand out and stared up to where she’d seen something move.

Harry stared at her incredulously as a white peacock sauntered along the top of the hedge. < Maybe we could not kill Malfoy’s pet bird, > he said dryly.

Hermione sheepishly re-sheathed her wand. < Typical of Malfoy to have a peacock, > she said haughtily.

The hedges slowly thinned, showing off vast acres of rolling fields that led off into what appeared to be a small forest. The manor appeared up ahead; a grand, well-kept building with lush sprawling gardens surrounding it. < Fucking hell, > Harry said, taking in the size of the place. < Good thing we don’t have people over. >

< We live in a destroyed building, > Hermione shot back. < I’m sure if it was intact and we had … vaguely normal lives that we could have people over. >

< Yeah, we really should try and dig a bit deeper, see why it’s destroyed, > Harry said, coming to a halt in the gravel turning circle that marked what could only be the entrance – a large, wooden double door with diamond-paned windows around it.

< Great idea; let’s go do that now! > Hermione said, but the front door had already opened and Draco Malfoy came striding out, arms outstretched.

“Welcome!” he exclaimed. “I’m so glad you two have arrived. I can’t wait to show you around the place. My parents are dying to meet you.”

Harry glanced to see Hermione’s well-practiced fake smile that still managed to look threatening plastered on her face and repressed a sigh, knowing he was going to have to do most of the talking. He smiled back at Draco, “Thank you so much for inviting us!”

They followed Draco into the Manor, quietly marvelling at the ornate décor. They could practically see the money papered onto the walls, along with what could only be priceless original pieces of art. He led them into what he pronounced was the ‘drawing room’, another tastefully decorated room, with purple walls, multiple portraits, and a large glass chandelier that flung light around the room. The focus of the room should have been the fireplace beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror, but Harry and Hermione’s eyes were immediately drawn to the two elegant figures seated, a tray with tea in front of them.

Draco cleared his throat, “Harry and Hermione, may I introduce my parents, the Lord and Lady Malfoy. Mother, Father, may I present Harry and Hermione Potter.”

Draco’s mother got to her feet and approached them, a warm smile on her face. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, with pale blonde hair and alabaster skin, immaculately dressed in light blue robes. “Please,” she said. “I insist that you call me Narcissa. It is an honour to meet you two. Did you know that we are actually related? Your grandmother, may the Mother rest her soul, was Dorea Black, who was my great-aunt. She was a phenomenal woman, and may I say that I see parts of her in you, Hermione.”

“It’s an honour to meet you too, Lady Narcissa,” Harry said, with a respectful nod of his head. “And you, Lord Malfoy.” < Even though we already met you like a month ago when you were like foaming at the mouth. >

< I dare you to say that out loud, > Hermione said, also nodding respectfully towards their hosts.

“We thought we’d have morning tea out in the garden,” Narcissa said. “It’s such beautiful weather at the moment.”

“Yes,” Draco said. “I’m hoping we’ll be able to go flying later. We have a full Quidditch pitch, and plenty of spare brooms.”

“Sounds lovely,” Harry said. < Fuck, my cheeks already hurt from smiling. >

They went out into the lush gardens and made their way towards a Victorian styled gazebo that had ivy growing up along it. The gardens were full of well-trimmed shrubs, roses, gardenias, jasmine as well as a vibrant trailing willow. They watched quietly as tea was magically served in dainty teacups, and a platter of French pastries suddenly appeared in the centre of the table.

< I feel like I’m having tea with the fucking Queen of England, > Hermione said. < Look at all this cutlery. This is just for fucking morning tea. Why didn’t we think of this? >

< Because someone was too busy coming up with a thousand different escape plans, > Harry shot back, trying not to clink his teacup against the saucer.

“Draco has told us all about your daring adventures this year,” Narcissa said, daintily setting down her cup. “I should love to hear about them from you.”

“Indeed,” Lucius said. “Some of them we could scarcely believe.”

The bond hummed dangerously, and Harry could feel Hermione’s anger bubbling up slowly. < Which part do you reckon he could scarcely fucking believe? > she seethed. < What pretty words shall we pick to describe our daaaaaring adventures? Jaunty, jovial? Jolly good fun? >

“Oh, well, errr ...” Harry said. “I scarcely know where to start.”

“Probably at the start,” Hermione said. “When Lord Malfoy put Voldemort’s Diary in Ginny Weasley’s cauldron that day at Flourish and Blotts.”


	4. Let's Fuck This Morning Tea Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione really just opened her mouth and did that. 
> 
> This chapter is chaotic and feral. The twins are trying to change the game, one questionable idea at a time.  
> I am post night shifts writing this, so that's my excuse. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics. 
> 
> Love all your comments. Let me know what you think :)

If Harry wasn’t certain that things were about to go very badly for them, he would have laughed out loud. He would never admit it but the looks on everyone’s faces as Hermione casually dropped a bomb on their morning tea were utterly hysterical. Draco looked like Hermione had whacked him over the head with a broom. Years of Slytherin training meant that Lucius and Narcissa managed to control themselves better, but even Lucius appeared completely gobsmacked before he regained control. Complete silence continued to hang in the air, and Hermione took a long sip of her tea before loudly clinking her cup back down on the saucer.

“That’s a dangerous accusation, Miss Potter,” Lucius said softly, his silver eyes staring Hermione down. “Do you often throw around unfounded statements?” 

Hermione stared back unafraid. “Only during morning tea,” she replied sardonically, raising an eyebrow. “You seem to forget, Lord Malfoy. We were there that day at Flourish and Blotts, we remember it quite well. It struck us at the time that brawling with another Pureblood Head of Family seemed an awfully odd thing for someone of your calibre to be doing, especially when the Daily Prophet was there with Lockhart. We thought for sure it would end up in the paper. It clicked later that it was a distraction, though for what, we weren’t certain at the time. It wasn’t until Ginny told me that she’d found the Diary in her cauldron, mixed up with all her other books, that the events in the bookshop shifted into startling clarity.”

“What utter fancy,” Lucius said. “You are seeing connections where none exist.”

“Ohhh, Lord Malfoy” Hermione said, a tinge of mockery entering her voice. “The next time you decide to give out some of Voldemort’s things, you might want to make sure that there isn’t a mole in your house.” She picked up one of the pastries and took a big bite, smiling around the table.

Harry realised he’d been sitting there utterly frozen and gave himself a slight shake. < Are you trying to get us murdered on our thirteenth birthday? > he hissed over the bond.

< Relax, Me, > she said calmly. < I have the situation under control. >

< Strangely, I feel no relief, > Harry said glumly. < I could have been an only child … still might be an only child, at this rate. >

“Oh, don’t worry, Lord Malfoy,” Hermione said after it became clear no-one else was going to speak. “We’re honestly not that mad. I can certainly admire the scheming that went into it. You are a true Slytherin at heart. I mean, you didn’t even blink when you realised that Draco was actually in danger, that the horror **you** unleashed on the school could actually go after him. No, you saw two Purebloods nearly dead in the hospital and immediately turned it into getting Dumbledore suspended. We really did laugh at your parting shot, if I may say. ‘We shall all miss your highly individual way of running things, Albus.’ Honestly, we’re just irritated that Dumbledore was reinstated so quickly.”

Harry was wondering if their death would be quick or slow. He cast an eye back at the Manor; it certainly looked like a place that would have a dungeon. He was interrupted from his ghoulish musing by Narcissa laughing softly.

“I see you inherited more than just Dorea’s looks, Hermione,” she said, looking almost fondly at her. “I doubt you came to such an unfamiliar place just to throw barbs at my husband. I assume you speak with purpose.”

< Don’t underestimate her, > Harry remarked. < My sister really will come to an unfamiliar place just to throw barbs. >

< Shut up, Me, you’re not helping, > Hermione said. < This family is a lynchpin. We need them on our side. >

< And just when did you decide all this? > Harry asked.

< Do you want the truth? > Hermione replied.

< Oh gods, you just opened your mouth and hoped for the best, didn’t you? > Harry said, wondering if thirteen was too young to start drinking. < What’s the plan? You better have a plan because I don’t know if I can talk us out of this one. >

< We’re gonna pull off the same thing that we did to our entire House, > she said, abruptly shoving several things into his head. Harry blinked, stunned. < That weird old lady called us Children of Fate, so we’re gonna show them their fate. >

< If we can pull this off, Mi ... > he said in amazement.

< We always ask ourselves ‘what would Matilda do?’ She used her powers to trick Trunchbull, using knowledge she shouldn’t have had. We’re just gonna do the same. Everything’s a story, Me … we’ve just gotta tell it right. Trunchbull ended up terrified, alone, powerless. This is another step in making sure we do the same to Voldemort, > she said, shooting him her trickster smile.

< Well, I do love doing the creepy fey twin act with you, > Harry said. < Let’s fuck this morning tea up. >

“You are right, of course, Lady Narcissa,” Hermione said, shooting a fond back at her, before clearing her throat. _“Kid, thank you for hiding, but I want you to come out now and get big.”_

_“Is your cat here too?”_ Harry said, holding back a laugh. The elder Malfoys’ faces paled as Echidna slithered out and started growing, the sunlight glinting off her purple feather-scales. _“Didn’t want to invite that peacock we met?”_

_“Don’t be silly,"_ Hermione said. _"... Beau is in my hair though.”_ She turned to face Lucius directly. “I imagine you’ve heard this language before. **He** certainly made no secret of his affinity with snakes, going so far as to brand his followers with one … or so we’re told.”

_“What am I hearing?”_ Harry said, suddenly distracted, the bond twanging between them.

_“Is now **really** the time?” _

_“No, listen! It’s just … it’s like hearing the Basilisk in the walls or something,”_ Harry said, trying to spread his senses out thin, listening intently for the faint whisper he’d heard.

_“It’s another snake, Master Harry,”_ Echidna said, in a tone that made it clear she thought he was being very dumb. Snakes were judgy bastards when they wanted to be.

_“Gods, it’s probably just a random snake in the garden,”_ Hermione hissed through clenched teeth. _“Can we get back to more important matters?”_

_“It’s on that ice man,”_ Echidna replied. _“Can I have a mouse now?”_

The bond jangled furiously between them as their mind clicked things over. _“You said it was a brand,”_ Harry hissed.

_“Well, that’s just what the books say. That you can identify his followers by the Dark Mark,”_ Hermione replied. _“But it’s …”_ She turned to look at Lucius Malfoy in amazement, who looked completely taken aback.

_“It’s not a brand,”_ Harry said. _“It’s a link! He linked them all to him.”_

_“That’s incredible magic if true,”_ Hermione said, her mind spinning a million miles an hour, all previous thoughts completely derailed _. “How do they work? Some level of sentience? More soul-like magic? Some sort of feeding loop, where his magic then feeds on their magic in order to sustain the brand?”_

_“Can they spy for him?”_ Harry wondered. _“Is there some element of Parselmagic at work? We haven’t really explored what we can use the language for yet.”_

They were suddenly distracted out of their tailspin of theories by Draco jumping up. “What do you two think you’re doing?” he shouted. “My father was cleared of all charges! You’re just repeating salacious lies!”

They blinked but before they could reply, a loud CRACK tore through the tense atmosphere. Harry and Hermione jumped to their feet at the noise, Hermione hissing at Echidna who shrunk and coiled back up her arm.

Severus Snape appeared from around the corner, his black robes flying behind him as he hurried towards them.

< Fuck! > Harry exclaimed. < FUCK! >

“Oh, thank the Gods,” Snape said, breathing out heavily, collapsing into one of the chairs. Everyone stared at him in utter disbelief.

< Not his usual response to us, > Hermione remarked, turning towards Echidna who had tightened around her arm.

_“The dark man has a snake on him too,”_ she said, slithering further up Hermione’s arm in order to stick her head up and look at the Potions Master.

“WHAT?” Harry said out loud, making everyone swivel back to stare at him. Before he could stop her, Hermione had her wand out pointed at Snape, further escalating the situation. < Fuck, did not mean to talk out loud. We cannot fight all these people, Mi Mi. You spent two whole goddamn days coming up with escape plans. It’s TIME to implement one of them. >

< Fuck no. We need to know why he’s been branded. We thought we were wrong to suspect him in first year but maybe we were right, > she said, glaring at Snape. < This is a matter of our fucking safety. If he’s been branded, how can we return to Hogwarts? >

< If he’s been fucking branded, how can we stay here? > Harry shot back.

< Old Pureblood rules. Can’t kill someone over a meal. It’s considered uncivilised, > she said.

< French pastries aren’t a meal! > Harry screeched. < Oh my gods, we’re going to die. >

Their internal argument was interrupted by Lucius, who didn’t seem to know who to glare at, standing up suddenly. “What brings you here, Severus?” he asked.

“Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban Prison,” Snape replied, a frantic edge to his usual drone. “He’s going to come after them. The guards reported he’s been muttering ‘he’s at Hogwarts’ in his sleep. I needed to make sure they were still safe … so kindly lower your wand, Miss Potter.”

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said, refusing to be waylaid. “Care to tell us why you’ve been branded by the Dark Mark?”

“Hang on,” Harry said, distracted again. “What do you mean he’s gonna come after us?”

“What,” Snape said softly, staring directly at Hermione, “did you just say to me?”

“You’ve been branded with his Mark, both of you have,” she said hotly, gesturing towards Lucius as well.

“More salacious lies,” Lucius said, echoing Draco.

“Deny it all you like,” she said. “Nothing you say can change the fact that the snake he branded you with is talking to us. _Listen to me, a true-born Speaker is here.”_ She smiled dangerously as both of them flinched slightly. “So, as I said, care to explain?”

Snape looked utterly stricken – it was an odd look on his usually expressionless face. Harry couldn’t even bring himself to enjoy it. He warred temporarily but his curiosity beat out his common sense so he figured he may as well join Hermione in her complete madness. 

“Also, may we see it?” Harry asked. “How does it work? Does it move around? Do you feel like it drains your magic at all?”

Hermione sent a jab at him over the bond. < Is now really the time, you fucking Ravenclaw? > she said incredulously.

Narcissa stood up smoothly. “This morning tea seems to have taken several odd turns,” she said sharply. “Everyone, come with me, we will retreat to the study, we will kindly place our wands away, and we will discuss this **rationally** and come to a resolution.”

Her steady tone brooked no argument, which is how Harry found himself sitting in a plush office with his sister, her pet snake, her pet Bowtruckle, Draco Malfoy and his mother, and two of Voldemort’s Marked followers. < Another weird party group, > he muttered, watching as Narcissa poured herself a drink and threw it back.

“Now,” she said. “Before we got distracted, Hermione was about to tell us something. I suggest we start there. After that, Lucius and Severus may respond. Once that is dealt with, we can proceed on to the matter of Sirius Black.” She flashed her eyes at Severus as he opened his mouth and he promptly shut his mouth and sat down.

< Sirius Black, > Harry said. < That’s our godfather, right? >

< Yeah, he’s been in prison, > Hermione replied. < He murdered a bunch of people, remember. >

< Oh good, another really stable person coming into our lives, > Harry said. < Fuck, alright. One thing at a time – we were gonna … let’s just get back to the storytelling. We’ll deal with everything else. > He nodded gently at Narcissa. “Our apologies for getting distracted. You asked to hear about our adventures this year, my Lady Narcissa. I’m sure as fellow Slytherins you all know the legends about the Chamber of Secrets, and apologies if some of this is old news, Professor. The Heir before us came to Hogwarts fifty years ago. Tom Riddle was a Muggle-raised Half-blood Slytherin – an odd combination back then, I’m sure.”

“He purposefully misunderstood our great Founder’s mission and used the Chamber to murder an innocent Muggle-born girl. In doing so, he went against the will of magic,” Hermione said, settling into her role. “Along the years, he so perverted the natural way, sank so deep into the dark, that when he re-emerged, he was irreversibly changed.”

“He went by a new name then, styled himself as Lord Voldemort,” Harry continued, the bond vibrating between the two of them. “All in an attempt to distance himself from his roots, to hide who he really was. Called himself Lord in order to play on the blood tensions in our country all so that he could wreak havoc, torture and murder for his own pleasure. He murdered our parents but failed to murder us, because we are the true Heirs of Slytherin.”

“You let Voldemort loose at Hogwarts, in the form of the remnant memory he left behind, and he once again went against our Founder’s mission and used the Chamber in an attempt to murder us,” Hermione said coolly. “We faced him for a third time in the Chamber of Secrets, in order to rescue two Purebloods that he’d taken and planned to murder.”

“We defeated his Basilisk and then we defeated him," Harry said, his voice heating up. "I tell you, the soul of Salazar Slytherin is built into his Chamber, his face carved into its very walls. He graced us with his magic in the Chamber, reaching out from beyond the Veil with a message for his Heirs.”

“Slytherin House has sunk into darkness and disrepute, forgotten what the House truly stands for, and allowed Voldemort to leave a stain on the soul of our House,” Hermione said, her eyes glowing an unnatural green. “The Heir is supposed to honour the memory of Valentina and use the Chamber to protect the school from those unworthy, but Voldemort cares not for our legends, our stories, our duty to magic, doesn’t care for your family or your blood or your dreams. He cares only for death and destruction.”

“Going against magic like that has a price,” Harry said. “Voldemort now lives as a shade, forced to inhabit the body of rats to survive. Magic spoke loudly at Hogwarts this past year, protected all those he tried to murder … including the Muggle-borns.”

“Voldemort would have his House forget the true story of our Founder. Our Lady Valentina died screaming, but so did the man she loved with everything she had. Beckett Byrde was Muggle-born and he was murdered as well that day, for the crime of loving his beautiful Pureblood lady,” Hermione said passionately. “You want to know why we came here today, truly? We’re here because, against your will or not, cleared of charges or not, you followed the false god who proclaimed himself to be the Heir of Slytherin. You fell for his lies.”

She turned to Harry, their eyes both glowing, the bond shining through. < Ready, Me Me? >

< To completely terrify people with you? Always, Mi Mi, > Harry replied. As one, they turned their heads towards Lucius and stared at him directly.

“He will try to return,” they intoned together, “and when he does, he will call his branded back to him, and your world will be plunged into blood and darkness again. If you follow him, your House will fall, your line will end, and magic will take everything from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide about this chapter - whether I liked it or not.  
> It's a bit of a swerve in tone, but it all means something, and is headed towards something. 
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all like this chapter. Next few should be up soon :) xx


	5. Alliances and Betrayals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lucius. He really is a mess of a man. I know he's usually portrayed as like calm and suave - which I certainly think he tries to be - but truly, he comes undone easily 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics

Lucius would never admit it, but fear was growing steadily in him, curling slowly through his veins. It had taken all he had to not flinch when the twins had turned to him, speaking synchronously, their eyes flashing brightest green as they announced his doom. He’d all but dragged Narcissa and Draco out of the room, weakly throwing out the excuse of needing to speak with his family, and promptly abandoned Severus to the pair. Maybe he’d be alive when Lucius got back, maybe not. He dragged Narcissa and Draco into the next wing and muttered a privacy spell as a precaution. Before he could even muster the strength to start a sentence though, Narcissa was at his throat.

“Was our son truly in danger this year?” she whispered, her blue eyes flashing.

Ah, Lucius thought, swallowing heavily.

“Mother!” Draco exclaimed.

“I did not think he would be,” Lucius said slowly.

“But you did not know for certain,” Narcissa seethed.

“What?” Draco said. “Are you saying they’re telling the truth, Father? But … you always … what?” He felt completely adrift as his parents ripped the rug out from under him.

“I had no choice joining him,” Lucius whispered. “My father had joined, and he offered me up. I won’t lie, I thought it would be good for our world at first, good for our people … but I will not deny being nothing but glad when he fell that night trying to kill those … those … fucking creepy twins,” he finally spat out.

“You’re the one who told me to befriend them,” Draco hissed, “you’re the one who told me they have ‘unknown powers’. This entire ball was your idea.”

“I didn’t know that their unknown power would be telling me my fucking doom,” Lucius replied, being more unravelled by the second.

“Enough,” Narcissa said, an aside glance telling him that he was still in deep trouble. “We’re at a crossroads. Draco, tell me what you know about Harry and Hermione.”

“Not a lot, Mother,” he said. “Half the time, it appears they’re in their own world together. They keep to themselves; they study a lot. They occasionally make attempts to … be social but that never lasts long. They’re the top of their classes, Hermione always masters the spells first. What else? Harry’s on the Quidditch team with me, he’s an incredible flier. Oh … they rarely talk.”

“What do you mean ‘they rarely talk’?” Lucius scoffed. “Did you miss the speech they just did?” 

“It’s just … it’s something I noticed … when they’re together, like studying or something … or sitting in the Common Room together … they don’t talk to each other. Like at all,” Draco said. “It’s really weird actually, but then they can turn around and do that thing where they speak at the same time … I don’t know how they do it.”

Narcissa had a distant look on her face, something sparking in an old memory. She tried to chase it, but it remained just out of her reach. “And just what is this story of them having powers?”

“Severus told me,” Lucius said. “He didn’t know much, he just said that the Headmaster had looked at them and found a power that he’d never seen before, that he didn’t understand. It makes sense, how else could they defeat the Dark Lord? How did they know what I said to Dumbledore - they weren't in the cabin. And then to defeat the Dark Lord twice more? I’d believe it just by looking at them … there’s something not quite right about the pair. Did you see their eyes?”

“Well then we are fortunate that they have come here, and we have been given this opportunity,” Narcissa said, turning to Draco. “You say you don’t know them well, but I feel they must like you if they came here … keep befriending them, my son, in the interests of our House.” She turned back to Lucius. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

-/-

Harry and Hermione were solidly ignoring Snape as they sat in the office. < Did you see the look on Lucius’ face? > Hermione giggled, softly stroking Echidna.

< Honestly, he’s a bit unhinged. Between brawling with the Weasley father and storming into Dumbledore’s office in a rage to today, > Harry said.

< Mmm, I suspect the real power in this household lies with Narcissa, > Hermione said.

< She seems really nice, > Harry said, reaching over and stealing Echidna, scritching her neck.

< Yes, she’d kill you with a smile and not get a single drop of blood on her dress, but she **is** nice, > Hermione snarked back.

< Oh, so not like you then, > Harry immediately jibed. < We all know you like to get mess everywhere. > Hermione furiously held back a stuck-out tongue, settling for jabbing him over the bond.

-/-

Severus was in utter shock, only years of Occlumency training keeping his face calm. Inside though, he felt in complete disarray. Every encounter he had with the twins left him feeling like the rug had been ripped out from under him, and he was left struggling to keep upright. It was not a feeling he liked, and indeed, not one he had felt in many years. He cast a brief look upwards, daring to think her name. Please guide me, he begged me. I want to protect your children but … they do not make it easy. Did you know, know how they’d turn out? Were they always like this, or was it something that happened when he tried to kill them? Please guide me, help me do the right thing this time.

He turned his head to subtly observe the pair, who were clearly acting as though they couldn’t see him. They were faced towards each other, occasional expressions flashing across their faces as though they were talking, but there was nothing but silence in the room. The cursed prophecy drifted across his mind … _the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_ … was this what it referred to? He had assumed it was … her sacrifice for them, and then thought it must be the unknown power that made their minds unreadable … but now? He suppressed a shudder at what he’d seen. Blank faces, speaking as one in a dull intonation, eyes … Severus suddenly realised where he’d seen that colour before. They normally had **her** eyes, the exact same shape and colour that it almost hurt to look at them … but they’d been brighter and colder just before, a colour he’d hoped not to see again. Was their power some kind of necro-divination, a way to walk the various paths of the future, to see when the crows cried for someone?

He could feel a headache coming on.

-/-

Lucius marched back into the room, his face pale and a vaguely deranged look in his eyes. Narcissa swept into the room looking much calmer and relaxed back into her chair, smiling softly at the twins.

“I must thank you for coming here today,” Lucius began haltingly. “That you think we are … worthy of being allies is a great honour.”

< Ehhh, > Hermione said. < It’s a bit more that you’re obscenely wealthy and funded a lot of Voldemort’s stuff, but sure … allies. >

“You are right that Slytherin House has lost its way,” he continued. “We used to always say that ‘blood matters but ability matters more’, a sentiment that has been lost in recent years.” He took a deep breath in. “I must tell you that I never wished to follow the Dark Lord, but my father joined, and he offered me up as well, I was never given a choice in the matter. When I heard of the events of first year, of the Dark Lord possessing Quirrell, I foolishly thought that was the end of him, and sought to rid my family of anything left that tied us to the Dark Lord.”

< Except the literal brand that ties you to him, > Harry snarked.

“It was a Muggle diary, I thought the Weasley girl would give it to her father who is head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office,” Lucius said. “I swear, I never meant for the events of this year to happen, but I couldn’t stop them once they had started … I did use said events to try and get rid of Dumbledore though.”

< A likely story, > Harry said, raising an eyebrow. < An excellent lie though. >

< Well the best ones all have roots in truth. Doesn’t matter now. We can pretend to take him at face-value, > Hermione replied. < We’ve achieved our main goal. >

< Your main goal was to cause trouble, > Harry bitched. < Everything else is just secondary gain. >

< But what a gain, > Hermione said smugly.

< Yeah well, I have another plan to enact later in the day, > Harry said. < I think you’ll like it. > He smiled up at Lucius. “We appreciate your words, Lord Malfoy, and we’re so glad you’ve seen the right path. Ability matters more is what Slytherin House should be about; we are, of course, the house of ambition.”

“Thank you," Lucius said, nodding his head. "And I must defend Severus. He turned spy for Dumbledore during the last war. He was cleared of all charges. That is why he bears the brand.”

Harry and Hermione turned to give Severus a cold look. “Understood,” they said.

< A spy for Dumbledore, > Harry spat furiously.

< We can never trust him, > Hermione said.

Severus saw the utter disgust in their eyes, and restrained himself from strangling Lucius who, no doubt, thought he’d done him a favour. “This has all been enlightening, but we have more pressing matters at hand,” he said, shrugging off their glares. “Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban Prison.”

“So?” Hermione said.

“He is going to come after you,” Severus said, eye twitching at her nonchalance.

“What makes you say that?” Harry said, confused. “I mean, he’s our godfather. Yeah, he apparently murdered a bunch of people, but why would he come after us?”

< I’d bet every person in this room except Draco has murdered someone, > Hermione said. < I mean, technically, we’ve killed two people. >

< Cheery stuff, Mi, > Harry said.

“What you are about to hear will not be easy,” Narcissa said, after exchanging long looks with Severus and Lucius. “Sirius Black is my cousin; I knew him well growing up. He’s your godfather because he was best friends with your father, James Potter. Honestly, you would have thought they were brothers; they were inseparable, did everything together, Sirius was best man at your parents wedding."

“Your parents knew that the Dark Lord was coming after them,” Snape said heavily. “I was the one who told Dumbledore of the Dark Lord’s plans. He told them that their best chance was to hide under the Fidelius Charm. It’s an immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find – unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. Torture and truth spells, even Legilimency, do not work. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, the Dark Lord could search the village where you were hiding for years and never find you. Sirius Black was chosen as the Secret-Keeper – your father told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself … and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Secret-Keeper instead. He feared that there was someone close to the Potters who was keeping the Dark Lord informed of their movements, that had turned traitor.”

“Your father insisted on Sirius being the Secret-Keeper, but they were betrayed. Sirius told the Dark Lord where to find you – decided he was tired of the double-agent role, and declared his support openly for the Dark Lord,” Narcissa said. “We all know what happened next. It left Sirius in a difficult position as he’d just shown his true colours. He tried to run for it, but another friend of your parents cornered him – Peter Pettigrew - tried to fight him. They say he was sobbing. ‘Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!’ Sirius blew Pettigrew to pieces. He was found standing in a crater in the middle of the street, so deep it cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere, Muggles screaming. And Sirius standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him, which was a heap of blood-strained robes and a finger.”

“He’s mad,” Snape said, with a very ugly look on his face. “He was mad in school and will have only gotten madder in Azkaban Prison. The guards at Azkaban report that he has been muttering ‘he’s at Hogwarts’ in his sleep for days now.”

< What the fuck am I? Chopped liver, > Hermione said.

< Yes, I’m thrilled to be the one he’s targeting, > Harry said. < How devastating for you. >

“He will be hunting for you,” Severus said. “You must remain somewhere safe for the rest of the holidays! I know you do not trust me, but Black is a murderous savage … he will not hesitate if he finds you.”

“If you were a spy, why didn’t you know that he was working for Voldemort?” Hermione said. < Our father said this man was his brother, that he’d die before he betrayed them. I would never betray you, Me Me. >

< I wouldn’t be capable of betraying you, Mi Mi. You are half my heart and mind … but maybe our parents just trusted the wrong person; he was found guilty after all. >

“We operated in different cells,” Snape replied. “Only the Dark Lord knew all his servants. Will you please promise me that you will not escape? That you will allow me to take you somewhere safe?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. < Fuck, > Hermione exclaimed. < What do we do? >

< I don’t know. Sirius Black is the only other person who can access our home, > Harry replied. < But I equally don’t want to go back to the Dursleys. >

< Maybe we’ll have to, > Hermione said, distressed. < We can live in our trunk there, we’ll actually have room instead of being in the cupboard. We can speak with Griphook when we go shopping with Neville … organise to get the wards changed. >

< But what about all our stuff? > Harry said. < Hedwig and Ty and Crookshanks are still at home, as well as half of our stuff … one of us will have to sneak home, under the Cloak and get everything. >

Hermione was now just loudly grumbling over the bond. < This was supposed to be a relaxing fucking holiday, > she said. < Instead, we’re in Malfoy Manor, a murderous psycho is after us, and Snape is going to take us back to the Dursleys. >

< I know, > Harry said, equally furious at the world. < But we can’t do anything if we get killed by Black. What’s most important is each other. After all, what do we have? >

< Just me and mine, > Hermione replied, taking a deep breath in. “We’ll allow you to take us to the Dursleys, where we will spend the rest of the Summer holidays.”

-/-

Snape had wanted to take them immediately which Narcissa had vehemently disagreed with. He refused to budge though – it would be far too easy for Black to sneak into the Ball and wreak havoc. He only relented a tiny bit and allowed the twins to spend another hour with Draco exploring the Manor and catching up with their friend.

Which is how Draco found himself being squeezed half to death by Hermione’s monster snake with her wand pointed in his face.

“You betrayed us,” Harry said, a hurt look on his face. “We thought Slytherins were supposed to stick together.”

“I swear,” Draco choked out, his ribcage almost cracking under the pressure. “I would never betray you.”

“Oh,” Hermione said sweetly. “So, it wasn’t you who told Anthony Goldstein to cast that spell at my brother?”

Draco’s eyes widened in fear and Hermione grinned at him.

“Thought so,” she said.

“I did that for you,” Draco implored. “Being the Heirs is a gift, speaking his tongue is a gift.”

“Well, now you’re going to give us another gift,” Harry said. “We want your house-elf, Dobby. He’s the mole in your home … really, we’re doing you a favour. So, you’re going to free him, and you’re not going to tell anyone why. And if you ever betray us again, I **will** tell Echidna here to strangle you to death, but not before I tell everyone in Slytherin House that you betrayed us, just to see them all turn on you, just as most of the school did to us this year.” He nodded at Echidna who promptly shrunk again, and they walked away, leaving Draco gasping on his bedroom floor.

< I vote we stay home next birthday, > Harry said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to 'Harry Potter and the Monster of Slytherin', which is the fic I remember first reading the phrase 'blood matters but ability matters more'. I've seen it in quite a few fics over the years though, and think it's a great phrase.


	6. Dursley Disarray and Affray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, the poor twins are back at the Dursleys.  
> Let's see how that goes. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics 
> 
> Love all your comments !!!

Harry and Hermione looked at each other glumly. They were back at the Dursleys, a place they’d sworn to never return to. On the plus side, they weren’t in the cupboard anymore, although the tiny bedroom with the single bed they were in was only a slight upgrade. Watching Snape threaten Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been a treat, although they were yet to see if anything would actually change. Harry had snuck out with his broom that same night and dashed back to Potter Manor under the cover of both darkness and the Cloak, returning with all their pets and books.

They were sitting cross-legged on their bed, unable to sleep, staring out at the starry sky and the distant freedom that beckoned. Hermione squinted suddenly, leaning forwards, before realising what she was seeing. Silhouetted against the golden moon was a distant owl flapping towards them. Before long, a handsome tawny owl flew through their open window, carrying a parcel and a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. They glanced at each other before taking them off the owl who promptly flew back out the window.

Harry recognised the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once – it was from Hagrid. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly – as though it had jaws.

Harry promptly threw the package across the room. < Hagrid has sent us something with teeth, > he said, panicking. Hagrid didn’t have a normal person’s view of what was dangerous. He’d been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

They both drew their feet up, watching in fear as whatever it was chewed off the paper covering until … a book appeared. Hermione just had time to register the golden title, _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , before it flipped on its edge and scuttled sideway around the room. < Fuck no, > she said, watching it creep around the room. < Jump on it, Me! >

< Why me? > Harry said, as the book opened its jaws and snapped them menacingly.

< Because I’m the brains and you’re the sports star, > Hermione said. Harry swore under his breath before diving across the room onto the book, managing to flatten it. Hermione leaned back and watched as he wrestled with the book, clamping it tightly in his arms.

< Get a belt, would you? If your brain can handle that, > Harry snapped, as the book continued to fight him. They quickly buckled the belt tightly around it. The book shuddered angrily but could no longer flap and snap. They quickly threw it into the trunk and shut the lid.

Hermione reached for the letters attached, opening Hagrid’s first.

_Dear Harry and Hermione. Happy Birthday! Think you might find this useful for next year. Won’t say no more here. Tell you when I see you. All the best, Hagrid._

< Well, I suppose it’s not a man-eating spider, > Harry said wearily, < but I really do hate to think why Hagrid thinks we need a biting book. >

< Never mind that, > Hermione said, who had opened the next letter. < Check this out. ‘Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.’ > They looked at each other glumly, both thinking the same thing – how to persuade Aunt Petunia to sign the form.

-/-

Life was marginally better at the Dursleys, as every member of the family had taken to mostly pretending the twins weren’t there. As they were getting fed, Harry and Hermione thought this was much better than they’d hoped for. They were down having breakfast one morning, being ignored by the Dursleys who were sitting around the table watching the television – it had been a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. He’d spent the summer in the kitchen, fixed to the screen, eating continually. Hermione was fixing toast for Harry while he made tea when the television caught their attention.

“… the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.”

“No need to tell us he’s no good,” snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. “Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout. Look at his hair!” He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, unable to help himself, as his untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon.

Neither of the twins noticed, in a state of shock at the news announcement. < What? How can he be on the Muggle news? > Hermione said, staring intently at the television.

“The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today –“

“Hang on!” barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the newsreader. “You didn’t tell us where the maniac’s escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!”

Aunt Petunia whipped around and peered intently out the kitchen window. Harry and Hermione did as well, unable to help themselves, before Harry shook himself. < He’s not coming up the fucking street, we’re safe here, > he said, turning back to the tea. < We can’t just be constantly panicking. >

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and said, “I’d better be off in a minute, Petunia, Marge’s train gets in at ten.”

“What?” Harry blurted out, feeling panic resurge through him. Hermione had already started swearing over the bond, flashing back to all the horrible things Aunt Marge had done to them.

“Marge’ll be here for a week,” Uncle Vernon snarled, breaking his streak of ignoring the twins, “and while we’re on the subject,” he pointed a fat finger threateningly at them, “we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her.”

< Fuck this, > Hermione said. < I’ll take Sirius Black over Aunt Marge. >

“Firstly,” growled Uncle Vernon, “you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talking to Marge.”

“All right,” Harry snarked right back, “if she does when she’s talking to us.”

“Secondly,” said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he hadn’t heard Harry’s reply, “as Marge doesn’t know anything about your freakishness, I don’t want any funny stuff while she’s here. You two behave yourself, got me? And thirdly,” his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, “we’ve told Marge that you attend an institution for incurable teenage criminals.”

“What?” Harry yelled.

“And you’ll be sticking to the story or you’ll be back in the cupboard, I don’t care what that overgrown bat wants to threaten,” spat Uncle Vernon.

Harry retreated to the kitchen before Hermione blew it up, grabbing her hand.

< We can’t stay here, > she hissed, furious.

< We have nowhere else to go, > he replied. < Neville isn’t back for another week. Aunt Marge may be the fucking worst, but she isn’t a psycho murderer. Come on, let’s go hide in the trunk. >

-/-

Harry had a very bad feeling about dinner and was wondering if he and Hermione should just institute a blanket ban from all meals with other people. Unfortunately, Aunt Marge loved to criticise them so wanted them at the dinner. Aunt Petunia had cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine to celebrate Aunt Marge’s visit. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of the twins’ faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

“Can I tempt you, Marge?”

Aunt Marge had already had rather a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red. “Just a small one, then,” she chuckled. “A bit more than that … and a bit more … that’s the boy.”

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry and Hermione were loudly insulting every person in the room over the bond.

“Aah,” said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. “Excellent nosh, Petunia. It’s normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after …” She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. “Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,” she went on, winking at Dudley. “You’ll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I’ll have a spot more brandy, Vernon …”

“Now, these two here,” she said, jerking her head at the twins, who sat there stonily. “They’ve got a mean, runty look about them. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred. It all comes down to blood you know. Bad blood will out. You see it all the time with dogs … if there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup –“

At that moment, the brandy glass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge spluttered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other; the bond stretched taut with the rage pouring off both of them.

“Marge!” squealed Aunt Petunia. “Marge, are you all right?”

“Not to worry,” grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. “Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster’s the other day. I have a very firm grip.” Uncle Vernon was glaring at the twins, something pulsing dangerously at his temple. “Anyway, as I was saying … well, I’m not saying nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.”

The bond was ringing dangerously in their ears as her words bored into them.

“This Potter,” said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and pouring herself a new glass, “you never told me what he did?”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents. Harry and Hermione’s fists were clenched tightly.

“He – err, he didn’t work,” said Uncle Vernon nervously. “Unemployed.”

“As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who-“

“He was not,” said Harry suddenly, feeling angrier than he ever had before. The table went very quiet.

“MORE BRANDY!” yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge’s glass. “You two,” he snarled at the twins, “Go to bed!”

“No, Vernon,” hiccoughed Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes now fixed on Harry. “Go on then, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash – drunk, I expect –“

“They didn’t die in a car crash,” Harry and Hermione screamed at the same time, jumping to their feet, the lights starting to flicker.

“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liars, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!” Aunt Marge screamed back at them, swelling with fury. “You two are insolent, ungrateful little –“

She suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger – but the anger didn’t stop. Harry and Hermione were still shaking with rage, the bond sparking furiously, as they glared down Aunt Marge. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Next second, several buttons burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls – she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami. The twins could feel the magic emanating off them but couldn’t stop it, their heightened emotions saturating the bond, making it spill over.

“MARGE!” yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together, as Aunt Marge’s whole body began to rise off her chair towards the ceiling. She was entirely round now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises, before bouncing into the ceiling.

The ringing stopped in Harry’s ears as the scene suddenly hit him in the face. Jabbing his sister over the bond, he dashed out of the room and up the stairs before anyone could stop him. He grabbed the trunk that was always kept packed, pausing briefly to hurl Crookshanks down into it with a loud yowl. He opened the window so Hedwig could escape and then burst back down the stairs, hissing for the snakes, and hurtled back into the dining room

Uncle Vernon jumped up, grabbing at Marge’s feet trying to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. Ripper, Marge’s dog, came skidding into the room, barking madly, and promptly leapt forward and sunk his teeth into Uncle Vernon’s leg, who let out a loud wail.

< We need to leave, > Harry shouted over the bond, trying to drag Hermione out of the rage stupor she was in, her eyes glowing dangerously green. Suddenly, Echidna and Typhon slithered into the room and Petunia loudly screamed.

Uncle Vernon, one hand wrapped around Marge’s ankle while he tried to kick off her dog, bellowed at them in rage. “PUT HER RIGHT, YOU FUCKING FREAKS. CHANGE HER BACK!”

“She deserved it,” Hermione shouted back, coming back into herself. “She FUCKING DESERVED IT, the ugly bitch.”

“How dare you!” shrieked Aunt Petunia. “You ungrateful freaks!”

“Shut the fuck up, Aunt Petunia!” Harry yelled.

Uncle Vernon let Aunt Marge go and she floated towards the open back door, still screaming and making popping noises. Uncle Vernon dragged himself into the office, Ripper still attached to his bloodied leg. Dudley continued eating pie, watching the show.

Aunt Petunia screamed again as Echidna and Typhon started rapidly growing in size, hissing furiously and flaring their feather-scales. Hermione, meanwhile, had wrenched open the trunk and was digging for something, while Harry furiously tried to get his snakes to shrink back and wrap around his arms so they could leave.

Uncle Vernon burst back into the room, a wild savage look on his purple face, and aimed a shotgun at the twins. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH!” he shouted. “We never should have taken you in, we should have thrown you out onto the fucking street!”

“I FUCKING WISH YOU HAD!” Harry shouted back, eyeing off the gun.

Hermione pulled her wand out and, with a loud bang, turned the gun into a flower. She then turned to Petunia and slammed a piece of paper onto the table. “Sign this, you hateful bitch, or I’ll turn Dudley into a fucking flower next.”

With a loud yell, Uncle Vernon threw himself at Harry and tackled him to the ground. Harry felt several ribs crack under the immense weight as he furiously jabbed his fingers into Vernon’s eyes and wriggled out from underneath him. Hermione turned and started laying into Vernon, furiously kicking him in his oversized gut. More noise erupted as Ripper and Echidna started fighting, Typhon quickly joining into the melee.

_“WE NEED TO FUCKING LEAVE!”_ Harry shouted over the noise, switching into Parseltongue. Hermione waved her wand threateningly at Petunia again. Harry plucked it out of her hand and froze Ripper, before furiously hissing at Kid and Ty, _“Shrink now or never get a mouse again. Into the trunk!”_

Aunt Marge had now floated out of the house to who-knew-where and Uncle Vernon was wheezing on the ground, blood pouring from his face. Harry slammed the trunk closed and dragged Hermione out of the house, still shaking with rage and fear.


	7. Runaways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice quiet life? The twins have never heard of it. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> :) :)

They were several streets away before he stopped dragging Hermione, collapsing onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from both the rage and effort. They sat still for a while, their hearts’ frantic thumping slowly returning to normal. 

< Well, we’re fucked now, > Harry said, rather calmly, all things considering.

< I don’t care, > Hermione said. < I should have fucking killed that bitch with my bare hands. >

< We couldn’t get our bare hands around her fucking meaty neck, > Harry said. < She’s probably up in fucking space now anyway, the balloon bitch. But we are fucked. >

< We’re probably going to get expelled for this, > Hermione said. < That was a fucking lot of underage magic. Makes this signed permission slip a bit worthless. >

< I can’t believe you got that signed, > Harry said, staring at her. < Like, priorities? We had a gun pointed at our face. >

< It was just fun to threaten Aunt Petunia, if I’m being honest, > Hermione said. Harry stared up at the sky in supplication.

< So, we’re homeless, expelled, and have not one, but two psycho murderers after us? I mean, let’s not forget Voldemort is still out there … hopefully still in Albania ... but we’ve got a signed permission slip, so I’m sure we’ll be fine. > Harry said. < What do you reckon Matilda would do now? >

< Again, have a better life than us, > Hermione replied. < I don’t know, Me. I don’t have a plan. Where can we go? >

< We could stay at the Leaky again? > Harry offered. < Harder to get murdered at such a well-travelled spot. Everyone’s hunting for Black, he can hardly waltz in and have lunch. > He opened up the trunk and began rifling through it, looking for their big green cloaks and some money, when Hermione stiffened beside him. He felt it a second later, a funny prickling on the back of his neck. They were being watched. 

The wind rustled through the bushes as they peered into the darkness, Hermione holding out her wand. There were eyes gleaming in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. They clutched each other as the eyes approached, only for the streetlight to illuminate a hulking black dog with wide gleaming eyes.

< Fucking hell, > Hermione said. < We’ll be sleeping with the lights on soon, jumping at shadows. > The giant dog nervously approached them; head bowed down low. They could see its ribs through its matted, dirty fur as it got closer. “Oh, baby,” she said softly, reaching forward to give the dog a pat, going slow as the dog flinched. “What happened to you, huh? Looks like the world hasn’t been too nice to you.” The dog slowly relaxed under the pats, edging closer to sniff the pair of them. “Are you hungry, baby?” She turned to the trunk and dug out some of the food they always kept as a precaution. “Here you go,” she said, continuing to stroke the big dog. < Let’s keep him! >

< I know our parents definitely loved me more because I clearly wasn’t dropped on my head as a baby, > Harry snarked. < We already have a cat, an owl, a bloody Bowtruckle, and two snakes … oh, and that’s right – we have no home! >

< But look at him! > Hermione said.

< It definitely has rabies, > Harry said, allowing the ginormous dog to sniff him further. He glared at his sister as he begrudgingly gave the dog a pat.

< I know you already love him, > Hermione said smugly. < Telepathic bond, Me Me! >

“Hey boy,” Harry crooned as he gave up the ghost, unable to help himself. “We don’t have a home either at the moment, but you could come with us. You could get in the trunk along with the rest of the bloody zoo we’ve got. It’s warm down there, at least.”

The dog whined sadly, looking up at him with his big gleaming eyes. < Are we sure this is a dog? > Harry said. < It’s bloody massive. >

< We could have a weird wolf-dog for a pet, > Hermione said, resuming her petting. < If Hagrid can have a man-eating spider, we can have a weird dog. >

“What do you say, boy? Want to join our big weird family? We don’t have much, but we’d love you like we love all our other babies,” Harry said softly, his heart hurting a bit that someone had clearly mistreated this dog badly.

The dog let out a mournful howl at his words and quickly took off, disappearing into the darkness.

< Well, fuck us, I guess, > Hermione said.

< Let’s get back to pressing matters and stop trying to adopt every animal we see, > Harry said. < Leaky Cauldron, yay or nay? >

< Fuck it, yay, > Hermione said. < But one of us should be in the trunk. We’re less recognisable that way. >

Hedwig swooped down on them as Harry won the paper-scissors-rock and was climbing into the trunk. Hermione ushered her down into the trunk, pulling her green cloak around her, and holding out her wand for the Knight Bus.

There was the usual deafening BANG and the giant purple bus appeared out of nowhere, and a new conductor got off and started the spiel.

“Yes,” Hermione said, interrupting. “I want go to the Leaky Cauldron.”

“No worries, miss. My name is Stan Shunpike, I’ll be your conductor this evening. ‘Woss your name then?”

“Pansy Parkinson,” Hermione said quickly, shoving some coins into Stan’s hand and climbing aboard. None of the usual seats were there; instead, half-a-dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows.

“You ‘ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving the trunk under the bed right behind the driver. “This is our driver, Ernie Prang.” With another tremendous BANG, the bus took off.

< Fuck this bus, > Hermione said, as she was thrown flat onto the bed by the speed. Harry clambered into her head, looking around at the bus, differently decked out at night.

Stan had unfurled a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair stared out from the front page. It took a few seconds to remember where they’d seen him, but then it came – it was Sirius Black.

< Fuck we’ve got an ugly godfather, > Hermione said, craning up to read the newspaper.

< Yeah, that’s what’s wrong with him, > Harry said.

Stan saw Hermione looking at the paper and politely handed her the front page. Both of them peering out through Hermione’s eyes, they read the article:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today._

_“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”_

_Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

_“Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it – who’d believe him if he did?”_

_While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

< Wonder what curse he used, > Hermione muttered, examining the picture of Sirius Black closely. Harry refused to deign that with a comment, sending her a strong feeling of judgement instead.

“Scary-lookin’ fing, inee?” Stan said, who had been watching Hermione read. “To murder firteen people in broad daylight. Woz a big support of You-Know-‘Oo.”

“Mmm,” Hermione said, wondering how to give off better vibes to stop people from talking to her.

“When little ‘Arry and ‘Ermione Potter put paid to You-Know-‘Oo, all his supported was tracked down, wasn’t they, Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-‘Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I ‘eard he thought ‘e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-‘Oo ‘ad taken over,” Stan continued, oblivious to Hermione’s glare. “Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. ‘Orrible, eh? An’ you know what Black did then?” Stan dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Laughed. Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry got there, ‘e went wiv ‘em still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. Cos ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”

< Maybe it runs in the family, > Hermione said. < Maybe I’ll blow this bus up and laugh. >

< I believe you, > Harry said. < But also, could we not? >

“If he weren’t mad when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind … after what he did …”

“An’ now ‘e’s out,” said Stan. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it. Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ‘is changes against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?”

“They’re just like the Aurors, aren’t they?” Hermione asked.

Stan gave her a disbelieving look. “Where you bin livin’ then, Miss? E’ryone knows that Dementors guard the prison.”

Ernie shivered. “Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.”

< Fuck are dementors? > Harry said.

< Probably something fucking horrible, > Hermione replied. < This world really is fucked up. >

The Knight Bus rolled on and before they knew it, Hermione was the only visible passenger left. They were thundering along Charing Cross Road, buildings jumping out of the way, when Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a half in front of the shabby-looking pub that served as the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

“Bye,” Hermione said, barely politely, jumping off the bus, making her way towards the front door.

A hand came out of the darkness and she dodged out of the way, her heart jumping into her throat, Harry panicking down in the trunk, unable to do anything. She looked up at the owner of the hand and her stomach sank. It was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself. “Thank the gods you, at least, are safe,” he said, “but where is your brother?”

Hermione gaped up at the man who took the opportunity to steer her into the empty pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.

“A pot of tea, please Tom,” Fudge said, gently pushing Hermione into a small parlour. “Are you alright, Hermione? Where’s your brother?”

< Is this really happening? > Hermione said.

< Unfortunately. If you kick the trunk under the table, I can climb out with the Cloak, and pretend like I was just slow getting off the bus, > Harry replied. There was a loud thump as Hermione kicked the trunk, still staring at the Minister, who was looking at her with growing concern on his face.

“You’re quite safe with me,” he said. “I am Cornelius Fudge, Hermione. The Minister for Magic.”

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on the table and disappeared again.

Harry appeared at the door to the pub. “Hermione,” he called, hurrying over to her and sitting down. “Who is this?”

“Oh thank the gods, you are both safe,” Fudge said. “Harry, I’m Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.”

< You really are the sports star, > Hermione said. < That was bloody fast. >

“Hello,” Harry said.

“Well,” Fudge said, pouring out tea, “you’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think … but you’re safe, and that’s what matters.” He buttered a crumpet and pushed the plate towards them. “Eat, please, you both look dead on your feet.”

< What the fuck is going on? > Harry said, looking down at the crumpets.

“Now then … you will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that’s that, and no harm done.” He smiled at them over the rim of his teacup as the two of them remained completely silent, unsure of what to say.

“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” said Fudge. “Well, I won’t deny that they are extremely angry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer.”

< Good fucking joke, > Harry said.

Fudge stared at them as they remained silent. “Well … all that remains is to decide where you’re going to spend the last two weeks of your holidays. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron,” he said, looking more and more uncertain.

“Ohhhhh,” Hermione said as her brain caught up. “This is because you’re all worried that Black is trying to hunt us down and murder us. Right! Now it makes sense. Have you had any luck with Black yet?”

Fudge dropped the crumpet he was holding, and Harry put his head in his hands. < Relax, Me, > Hermione said. < Looks like we’re not getting expelled and now we get to stay here and hide in our trunk and go shopping as we please. >

“Oh, you’ve heard … well, err,” Fudge appeared completely lost for words.

“We appreciate you looking out for us, Minister,” Harry said, smiling politely. “It’s very kind of you to step in and help us. My sister is still quite shocked over all the events tonight.”

“Oh, well it’s fine,” Fudge demurred. “The Ministry is happy to help out. And as for Black, well, it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed … and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.” He shuddered slightly. “I’ll arrange a room for the next two weeks. Please stay here within Wizarding London, and don’t go out after dark.”

-/-

They were woken early the next morning by a furious rapping at their door. < Gods, I don’t even care if it’s Black, I’m so tired, > Hermione moaned, stumbling towards the door and looking through the peephole. < Oh, fuck. >

“Don’t make me blast this door open,” came a voice through the door.

Hermione wrenched the door open and smiled sweetly up at Severus Snape, throwing the last vestiges of her politeness out the window. “Do you have a tracker on us or something?”

“I wish I did. I’ve never met a bigger pair of hooligans than you two,” he snapped. “I tell you that there is a dangerous murderer on the loose who is after you, and you two plunge off into the darkness of night alone. You’re supposed to be intelligent!”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to stop Hermione from opening her mouth, figuring Snape deserved whatever he got.

“Oh, yes, that’s right. Us hooligans just went off on a jolly jaunt into the night, just for fun,” Hermione seethed. “It certainly wasn’t because our uncle tried to fucking murder us with a shotgun! But whatever, I guess, let’s just plunge off together. It’s only three people in our lives who want us dead – our godfather, our uncle, and let’s not forget your old master, Voldemort. Why do you even give a shit? Your current master must have you on a very short leash for you to be here.” She gave him her very best withering look.

“I am here,” Snape said in a very low voice, “because I made a promise to your mother to protect you.”

“You knew our mother?” Harry said, surprised. “How?”

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable now. “We went to Hogwarts together, we were … friends.”

“I’m assuming this is before you got that snake branded on you,” Hermione said savagely. “After all, our mother was Muggle-born, and oh, that’s right. She was murdered by your old master! And now your new master wants you to care about us, so here you are.”

“Enough!” thundered Snape, his usual quiet baritone echoing through the room. “You know not of what you speak. Whether you like it or not, and I don’t care if you don’t like it, I intend to keep my promise.” At that, he swept from the room and vanished.

Hermione loudly slammed the door behind him. < I’m not opening the door again; I don’t care who knocks. >


	8. Diagon Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they're safe for now.  
> Poor Snape, hope he recovers from that lashing. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics

After that altercation, most of the days were quite pleasant. They went shopping, although Harry put his foot down to any more pets, and in turn Hermione put her foot down when Harry spotted the latest broom release, the Firebolt. They spent a lot of time at Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour, finishing off their essays with occasional help from Florean himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch-burnings, gave them free sundaes regularly. They went to the apothecary to replenish their stores of Potions’ ingredients, cursing Snape under their breath as they did. More importantly – to Hermione, at any rate – they bought all their new schoolbooks.

They got a surprise as they looked in the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass which held about a hundred copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.

< I mean, it is on our booklist, > Hermione said. < At least there’s no Lockhart in the store this year. > They made their way into the store and the manager came hurrying towards them.

“Hogwarts?” he said abruptly. “Come to get your new books?”

“Err, yes,” Harry said. “We need –“

“Get out of the way,” said the manager impatiently, brushing them aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick and proceeded towards the door of the _Monsters Books’_ cage.

“Hang on,” Harry said quickly. “We’ve already got that.”

“Have you?” A look of enormous relief spread over the manager’s face. “Thank the gods for that, I’ve been bitten five times already this morning –“

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the _Monster Books_ had seized a third and were pulling it apart. “Stop it! Stop it!” cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. “I’m never stocking them again, never! It’s been bedlam! I thought we’d seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ – cost a fortune, and we never found them … Well, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Ahh, no, we’re good, thank you,” Harry said, turning away from the crazed manager but immediately walking into Hermione who was rooted to the spot staring at something. He followed her line of sight and his eyes widened. _Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming._

“Oh, I wouldn’t read that if I were you,” the manager said lightly, seeing what they were staring at. “You’ll start seeing death omens everywhere, it’s enough to frighten anyone to death.”

They continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked identical (albeit healthier) to the dog they’d met earlier that week. Hermione picked it up and gestured at it to the manager. “What’s this on the front?”

“It’s the Grim,” the manager sighed. “It’s considered one of the darkest omens, an omen of death. Are you taking Divination classes?”

Harry and Hermione had stopped listening, instead staring at each other in horror. < The Grim! > Harry said. < That’s what Trelawney saw in our teacup. >

< That picture is nearly identical to what we saw in the alleyway, right down to the gleaming eyes, > Hermione hissed. < What does it mean? Are Grims real? > She rapidly flicked through the book, her eyes scanning the pages. < This is useless, it just says it’s a gigantic spectral dog that haunts graveyards and people who see it usually die within twenty-four hours. >

< Okay, > Harry said, trying not to panic. < Okay! It’s been well more than twenty-four hours. >

< I don’t like it though. The Divination professor sees the Grim and then we see the Grim? > Hermione said, putting the book back gingerly. < What are the odds of that? >

< Probably similar to the odds of being attacked by Voldemort twice in two years, > Harry said glumly. < Gods, maybe we should have taken Divination. >

< What? To be told we’re going to die every week by that bat? I don’t think so, > Hermione said fiercely. < We make our own fate, Me Me. Come on, let’s get the rest of our books and get out of here. >

-/-

They were going through their textbooks in their room the next day, all their pets lounging around them, when there was a sudden loud CRACK, causing both of them to fall off the bed in fright, before quickly jumping up and looking around.

Dobby stood in the centre of the room, manically beaming up at them.

< Huh, > Hermione said. < I was kinda hoping Draco wouldn’t keep his word and we could strangle him again. >

“Master Harry and Mistress Hermione freed Dobby!” the elf chirped happily. “Dobby is a free elf!”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” Harry said. “Just promise me you’ll never try to save our lives again. My sister definitely hasn’t forgiven you for the broken arm.”

Dobby’s face split into an even wider toothy smile. “Ok Master Harry!”

“Hang on,” Harry said. “Why are you calling me Master?”

“Because yous is my new Masters,” Dobby said happily. “Dobby is so happy that Master Harry and Mistress Hermione wanted Dobby to be their elf.” He beamed around the room, waving to all their pets.

< What the fuck? > Harry said.

Hermione laughed loudly over the bond. < Fantastic, Me. Truly a great plan on your behalf. >

< Shut the fuck up, I just thought he’d be freed and that would be it, > Harry said bewildered. < What the fuck do we do? >

< I’m in a good mood, > Hermione said. < So whatever you want. Look at that happy little face, Me. You gonna crush his dreams? >

Harry looked at Dobby again who continued beaming brightly at him. < Ugh, no, I'm not going to crush his dreams. I'm the nice twin. > He offered a smile back to the little elf. “Errr ... welcome to the family, Dobby.”

The elf started skipping at that, his bat ears flapping. “Dobby is going to be the bestest elf for Master Harry and Mistress Hermione,” he squeaked. “But ... Dobby must know why we are living here now?”

“We’re not, we still live at Potter Manor. We just have someone who wants to murder us who can get through the wards,” Hermione said bluntly. “Still wanna live with us? Lots of people want to murder us.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Dobby said, somehow managing to smile even bigger. “And Dobby can help Mistress Hermione with that. Dobby will make sure the wards are fixed.”

There was another loud crack and the elf disappeared.

< Our lives are fucking weird, > Hermione said, picking her book up off the floor.

-/-

To their disappointment, they didn’t see any of their friends (short as that list was) until the last day of holidays. Neville’s grandmother refused to allow Neville out with the Sirius Black news. On the last day however, they ran into Fred and George, who were looking very freckly, matching grins on their faces.

“If it isn’t our favourite ickle snakies,” Fred said, smiling broadly at them. “We hear you’ve been into all sorts of mischief these holidays.”

“I guarantee you don’t know half of it,” Harry said.

“Did you or did you not blow up your aunt?” George asked.

“She deserved it,” Hermione said frankly as the Weasley twins howled with laughter. “We really did think we were gonna get expelled though. Wanna go get ice-cream?”

They wandered through Diagon Alley together, the Weasleys regaling them with tales of their Egypt adventures. Their faces turned slightly serious when they got their ice-cream, however.

“You didn’t hear this from us,” George said, “but the whole family is staying here at the Cauldron tonight so we can take you to the station tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” Hermione said, cutting off Fred who’d just opened his mouth. “This is because of Sirius Black, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Fred said. “We were about to say that we didn’t know why, just that the Ministry asked Dad to do it, and provided the rooms for us all, and the cars to take us tomorrow. Why because of Sirius Black?”

“He wants to murder us,” Hermione said sulkily.

“I love that you say that with the same tone you’d use if you dropped your ice-cream on the ground,” Fred laughed.

“Well, they’re about equal in her eyes,” Harry said.

Later, they set off back to the Leaky Cauldron, and found the Weasley patriarch sitting in the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet_. He smiled at them as they entered. “Harry, Hermione,” he said, putting the paper down and holding out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you again, under slightly better circumstances.”

“I do suppose we’re not covered in blood this time,” Harry said, shaking his hand, catching Sirius Black’s face staring up at him from the paper. “They still haven’t caught him, then?”

“No,” said Mr Weasley, looking extremely grave. “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him; we’ve certainly not had a crisis like this in quite some time.”

At that moment, the rest of the family entered the bar, laden with their shopping. Ginny seemed incredibly embarrassed, flushing red at the sight of them, muttering a quiet ‘hello’ without making eye contact. The eldest still at school made his way over solemnly however and held his hand out. “Harry, Hermione,” he said in a deep slow voice. “Percy Weasley, at your service.”

“Err … hello,” Harry tried.

“I hope you’re well?” Percy said pompously, shaking his hands. It was rather like being introduced to the mayor. Before Harry could attempt an answer, Percy was elbowed out of the way by Fred who bowed deeply to Hermione.

“Simply splendid to see you, my lady,” he joked.

“Absolutely spiffing,” George said, yanking Harry’s arm up and down.

“That’s enough boys,” Mrs Weasley said.

“Mum!” said Fred, as though he’d only just spotted her, and seized her hand, too. “How really corking to see you!”

Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes before smiling at Harry and Hermione who were furiously debating the best way to escape this family fanfare. “Hello, my dears. It’s so lovely to see you again, and I was so upset that you weren’t able to come and spend time with us these holidays. You simply must visit next holidays.”

< Maybe this is why we’re seeing the Grim, > Hermione said.

Harry smiled, his cheeks hurting slightly, and outright ignoring the look of disgust on Ron’s face. “That sounds lovely, Mrs Weasley, you’re too kind.”

-/-

They dragged themselves through dinner, spending most of the time with Fred and George, who were frankly hilarious, particularly when they were antagonising Percy.

They were hoping to hide in their room for the rest of the night when there was a soft knock on their door. < I’m not answering it, > Hermione said immediately.

Shaking his head, Harry padded across the room and unlocked the door to see Ginny Weasley looking nervously up at him. “Can I come in, please?” she croaked out.

Harry held the door open further and waved her in, shrugging back at the question mark Hermione had sent him. Ginny paced around the room, her hands twisting, a scared look on her face.

“Are you alright, Ginny?” Harry asked, eyeing off her pacing warily.

She bit her lip and looked at the two of them. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked. “I don’t know who else to tell.”

< Her last secret was that she was fucking possessed by Voldemort, > Hermione said.

< Which was not her fault, > Harry replied sharply. “Of course we can, what’s going on?”

“Well, err … umm … do you think,” she started, “could … could I please see one - one of your s-snakes?”

Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared well into her fringe. < I don’t know what I thought she was going to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. > She turned and hissed down into the trunk, calling Kid up into the room, who delightfully slithered up and looked around. Ginny got down onto her knees and looked closely at Kid who looked back at her, tilting her head.

_“Who is this?”_ she asked, turning back to Hermione.

_“I’m Ginny Weasley,”_ Ginny hissed, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke.

Harry’s jaw dropped and Ginny burst into tears.

-/-

Everyone in the room was still frozen at what had occurred, except for Kid who was delightfully hissing away at Ginny and asking for a mouse. Ginny was now loudly sobbing, fat tears rolling down her face.

_“He’s still in me, isn’t he? He’s still in my head,”_ she cried, still in Parseltongue. 

Harry and Hermione were in a flap over the bond, completely out of their depth. < He can’t still be in her head, > Hermione said. < We killed him – or at least that version of him! >

< We don’t even properly understand how he managed to possess her, we just guessed based on what he said. It’s not like we’re experts, > Harry replied, wavering back and forth on the spot, before hurrying over to comfort the crying girl. “Ahhh … it’s ok, Ginny,” he said in an unconvincing voice. “We can figure this out.”

“I can’t go back to school,” she sobbed. “I’m going to hurt people again. He made me a monster!”

Harry looked desperately at Hermione who threw her hands up. < Fucking gods damnit all to hell, > she said. < We’re going to have to see fucking Dumbledore about this. >

< Gods, maybe we should learn French and go to Beauxbatons, > Harry said in disgust. “Ginny, you’re not going to hurt people. We won’t let that happen. We’re gonna figure out what’s happening, alright. We’ve got a plan.”

She looked up, cheeks flushed, her face wet with tears. “Really?” she said, trembling all over now.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, lying through his teeth.

“What did Madam Pomfrey say when she looked after you at the end of the year?” Hermione asked curiously.

Ginny looked confused at that. “She didn’t say anything?”

“No, like, when she examined you and what not,” Hermione said. “Or what did she tell your parents?”

“Nothing,” Ginny said. “I got a sleeping potion and slept for like two days and that was it. My parents didn’t say anything to me about it.”

< What the fuck is wrong with this world? > Hermione said. < Did she actually get medical attention? >

< She could have, and it was all fine, and Pomfrey would have told her parents that nothing was wrong, > Harry replied.

< That literally can’t be possible. At the bare minimum, she had severe magical exhaustion. She could barely cast a fucking _Lumos_ , > Hermione said.

Harry grimaced and turned back to Ginny. “We need to go ask your parents what Pomfrey said,” he said. Ginny looked completely horrified at that. “Don’t panic!” he said quickly. “We’ll come up with a good excuse for asking – we won’t tell your parents what you showed us, we promise.”

Before anyone in the room could protest, Harry opened the door and crept out, knowing they’d follow. They snuck past Ron and Percy’s room – they were having a furious argument, Percy shouting at Ron for losing his Head Boy badge.

They were halfway along the dim passage to the bar when they heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlour – Mr and Mrs Weasley were also furiously rowing. Harry and Hermione twitched at the sound of their names.

“… makes no sense not to tell them,” Mr Weasley was saying heatedly. “They’ve got a right to know, we can’t treat them like children.”

“Arthur, the truth would terrify them!” said Mrs Weasley shrilly. “Do you want to send them back to school with that hanging over them? For gods’ sake, they’re happy not knowing!”

“I don’t want to make them miserable; I want to put them on guard,” retorted Mr Weasley. “They ended up in the bloody Forbidden Forest last year – they can’t do that this year! If they hadn’t caught the Knight Bus, I’m prepared to bet we would have found their mangled bodies.”

Ginny gasped loudly at that, and Hermione put her hand over her mouth, leaning closer to keep listening in case anything new came up.

“But they’re not dead, they’re fine, so what’s the point –“

“Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible. It’s been three weeks, and no-one’s seen hide nor hair of him, and I don’t care what Fudge keeps telling the _Daily Prophet_ , we’re no nearer to catching Black than selling self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is who Black’s after –“

“They’ll be perfectly safe at Hogwarts,” Molly replied.

“Our little girl nearly died in that school last year, it is not necessarily a safe place!” Arthur said. “We thought that Azkaban was perfectly safe but if Black can break out of there, he can certainly break into Hogwarts.”

“But no-one’s really sure that Black’s after them –“

There was a thud on wood as Mr Weasley banged his fist on the table. “Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn’t report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but both Fudge and Dumbledore went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told them that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: ‘He’s at Hogwarts’.”

“But what does that mean? That doesn’t mean the twins,” Molly argued. “Who’s the he that he’s talking about?”

“They’re called the Twins-Who-Lived, but most people believe it was only one of them who stopped You-Know-Who that night. Black must believe it’s Harry but they’re both in danger. Black is deranged and he wants them dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering them will bring You-Know-Who back to power. He lost everything the night they stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years in Azkaban to brood on that …”

There was silence, and all three of them crept closer to the door, desperate to hear more.

“Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you’re forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don’t think anything could hurt them at Hogwarts while Dumbledore’s Headmaster.”

There was a loud snort at that. “After the debacle of last year?” Arthur said. “He’s a great wizard, but he’s not omnipotent.”

“There’s always the Azkaban guards,” Molly tried.

“He’s not happy about that,” Arthur said. “We had to ask him if he minds them being stationed around the entrances to the school grounds. He agreed but he isn’t fond of them … nor am I, actually, but when you’re dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you’d rather avoid.”

“Well, if they save them –“

“- then I will never say another word against them,” said Mr Weasley wearily. “It’s late, Molly, we’d better go up …”

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny startled in the passageway and, quietly as they could, hurried away from the parlour and out of sight, dashing back up the stairs and into their bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

Ginny looked at them, eyes wide in horror.

“Oh yeah,” Hermione said. “Sirius Black wants to murder us … just to catch you up.” < I guess we’re friends with her now? >

< Great, brings our total to like two friends, > Harry said. < Four if you count Fred and George. > He rubbed his face and sighed. “We’ll find another way to figure out what Pomfrey found, Ginny, but I’ll have to be honest with you … we probably need to tell Dumbledore when we get back to school.” He held up his hands as she made noises of protest. “I know he’s the worst, but he can actually be useful for stuff like this. He examined us for a similar thing last year.”

< Old goat, > Hermione muttered. < He couldn’t actually give us an answer when he did. >

< Well, I don’t have any other solutions at the moment, > Harry replied. He smiled at Ginny softly. _“It’ll be alright. It’s actually a really cool language. Once we’ve figured everything out, maybe you could get a snake too.”_

_“Thank you,”_ she said quietly, still looking wan.


	9. Train(wreck)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments so far :) :) They really do feed my soul!
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics

< I didn’t know that some people think only one of us defeated Voldemort, > Hermione said, as they got dressed and packed everything ready for the trip to Hogwarts.

< I know you’re just annoyed that Sirius thinks I did it, and not you, > Harry replied. < And I would be more than happy to tell the entire world that it was you, all you, and that I’m plum normal, thanks very much. >

< Don’t get your wand in a knot, > Hermione shot back. < I mean, yeah, he should think it’s me. But we’ve never thought it was just one of us. We have matching scars, for fucksake. >

< This world is not a logical one, Mi, > Harry said, checking the room one last time before heading downstairs.

Mr Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside. “They’re here,” he said. “Come on you two, let’s get you into the car.” He frog-marched them across the short stretch of pavement towards the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard, wearing a suit of emerald velvet. Mr Weasley glanced up and down the crowded street as they got in.

< That is a shit secret service uniform, > Hermione said, eyeing off the driver.

< I’ll just be glad when we get to Hogwarts and people can stop doing this to us, > Harry said, budging up uncomfortably as the Weasley twins joined them in the car.

They managed to make it to the train station uneventfully, which Harry was quietly surprised at, given his and Hermione’s ability to turn the uneventful into a shitfest. The Hogwarts Express was puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.

Harry and Hermione promptly tried to make their escape onto the train but were grabbed by Mr Weasley. “Just a few moments of your time,” he said, dragging them behind a pillar. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you before you leave –“

“We already know,” Harry interrupted. “We’ve known for some time now.”

“Oh,” Mr Weasley said, “well, you must be very scared –“

Hermione snorted. “He can’t be worse than Voldemort, can he?”

Mr Weasley flinched at the name but overlooked it. “I’m aware you’re both made of strong stuff but –“

“Arthur!” called Mrs Weasley, who was now shepherding everyone onto the train. “Arthur, what are you doing? It’s about to go!”

“Listen, I know you two don’t know me well, but I just want you both to be safe. Promise me that you won’t go looking for Black,” he said in a low voice.

“We promise not to go looking for someone who wants to kill us,” Harry said quickly, as the train sounded the final horn. “Thanks for getting us here today, but we’ve really gotta go.” Nodding vaguely politely, he hurried them both away and onto the train, just as it started moving.

< It’s cause he betrayed our parents, isn’t it? > Hermione said, as they set off down the corridor, unimpressed with how full all the compartments were.

< Well, getting revenge is literally what we like to do, so I guess it makes sense that we might try to go looking for Black, > Harry said wearily. < Everywhere else is full, we’re gonna have to sit with this dude. > He cautiously opened the door, looking at the occupant. It was an adult, not something usually seen on the train. The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard’s robes which had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though he seemed quite young, his light-brown hair was flecked with grey, and there were a few scars littered on his face. They crept into the compartment, but the man remained asleep.

< Professor R. J. Lupin, > Hermione said, looking up at the luggage rack where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. < Is that name familiar to you? > she asked, scrunching her face up. < I feel like I’ve heard it before. >

Harry shook his head, eyeing the man. < You’re the brains, remember. He must be the new Defence teacher. Fuck, he looks like one good hex would finish him off. >

< Mmm, he looks unwell, > Hermione said. There was a soft tap at the compartment door and she turned to see Neville, looking taller and very tanned. She jumped up, grinning, and opened the compartment door and gave Neville a hug. “Neville,” she said happily. “Come in, we just gotta whisper.”

“It’s so good to see you guys,” he said. “I’m really sorry my Gran wouldn’t let me see you guys over the holidays.”

“In her defence, since you’ve known us, you’ve been kidnapped by Voldemort twice,” Harry said. “And now another psycho is after us.”

“What?” Neville said.

Hermione quickly explained what they’d been told over the holidays, and Neville looked more horrified as the story went on.

“He comes from a Dark family,” Neville breathed. “One of the Darkest. And no-one knows how he got out of Azkaban – it’s supposed to be impossible, and he was a top-security prisoner, too.”

< We’re not going to have a fun, relaxing year, are we? > Harry said.

< Don’t despair, Me. Maybe our luck will change, > Hermione said, not believing a word she said.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. They wiled away the time talking about Neville’s adventures in the Mediterranean and introducing Neville to all their new pets. Crookshanks settled onto an empty seat while Kid and Ty snoozed in the twins’ robe pockets. Hedwig stayed asleep on her perch down in the trunk. Beau was, of course, still in Hermione’s hair. At one o’clock the plump witch with the food trolley arrived at their compartment door.

They looked awkwardly at Professor Lupin as they bought some cauldron cakes and sweets. “Should we wake him?” Neville whispered. Harry shook his head.

“Don’t worry, dears,” said the witch. “If he’s hungry when he wakes, I’ll be up front with the driver.”

< He hasn’t died, has he? > Harry asked.

< He’s breathing, > Hermione replied, stuffing a cauldron cake into her mouth.

Lupin managed to sleep through the twins having an altercation with Ron Weasley.

Ron arrived not long after the food trolley, sneering at them as he pulled open the compartment door. “If it isn’t the evil snake twins,” he said. “Trying to move in on my family because yours are dead.”

“It’s hardly our fault that your family likes us more than you,” Hermione shot back. “Probably something to do with the abundance of talent, intelligence, and charm we have. The rest of your family seems to have some … not sure what happened to you.”

Before Ron could retort, Crookshanks let out a loud yowl and launched at the redhead, claws outstretched. Several screams later and Ron ran away, holding his pet rat in his hand, covered in bleeding scratches.

Crookshanks got lots of loving pats from Hermione while Harry checked Lupin really hadn’t died given not even a literal catfight had woken him, but he was still just fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet further north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled onwards, the rain hammering down and the wind roaring outside.

They were all relaxing quietly when the train started to slow down. Neville frowned, looking at his watch. “I don’t think we’re there yet … unless my clock’s wrong.” Harry and Hermione looked at him, worrying as the train got slower and slower, finally coming to a stop. The wind and rain seemed even louder against the windows now. Without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

< I don’t like this, > Hermione said, a note of panic entering her voice as she peered out the dark window. < There’s something moving out there. >

< Oh my gods, we’re going to die before we even make it to Hogwarts this year, > Harry said.

The compartment door suddenly opened, and Harry yelped as someone fell painfully over his legs. There was another thud as a second person tripped over the first.

“Sorry, it’s me,” whispered Ginny. Harry felt around in the dark and pulled her up by the cloak. “Luna’s with me.”

There was a loud hissing and another yelp of pain as whoever Luna was tried to sit on Crookshanks. Neville tried to come to her rescue but tripped over his own feet, thudding to the ground instead.

“For the love of all that’s holy,” Hermione whispered. “Everyone sit down and –“

“Quiet!” said a hoarse voice suddenly. Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. There was a soft, crackling noise and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired grey face, but his eyes looked alert and wary. They widened as the light washed over Harry and Hermione. Harry watched him gulp as he got to his feet. “Stay where you are,” he whispered, heading to the door.

But it slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, briefly illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin’s hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. The flames flickered out but not before Harry saw that its face was completely hidden beneath its hood and that its hand looked a slimy scabbed grey, like something dead that had decayed in water.

Cold darkness flooded the compartment; no-one dared to move. The thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over them all. Harry and Hermione felt their breath catch in their chest, the cold going deeper than skin, making its way to their heart.

They groped towards each other, the bond straining between them, its green light flickering. They couldn’t see, they were drowning in cold. Harry tried to shove into Hermione’s head but there was a rushing in his head, and they were being dragged downwards, the roaring growing louder and louder, as they kept trying to reach each other.

And then, as their hands met, they heard it. A distant screaming; terrible, terrified, pleading screams that ripped through them. The bond flared suddenly, and they blacked out.

Harry woke to someone slapping his face and he frantically looked around for his sister, finding her lying next to him on the compartment floor, eyes fluttering. The lanterns were back on and the train was moving again. < Mi Mi, > he yelled, his voice sounding weak over the bond. He got a groan back. Harry felt sick and could feel a cold sweat on his face.

He slowly climbed to his feet and helped Hermione back to her seat, her face paler than he’d ever seen.

“Are you OK?” Neville asked nervously, his face also pale. Harry glanced around the compartment. Lupin was digging through his luggage. Ginny was sitting there, her eyes oddly unfocused, her lip bleeding where she’d bitten down. The new girl – Luna – simply looked surprised, opposed to the utter despair and horror on everyone else’s face. She had waist-length glowing white-blonde hair, a Ravenclaw patch on her uniform, and her wand was stuck behind her left ear. Harry had no idea what to make of her.

“Umm, yeah,” Harry said, lying. “What happened? Who screamed?”

“No-one screamed,” Neville replied, more nervously still.

< You heard it, right? > Harry said.

< I wish I didn’t, but yeah, > Hermione replied monotonously. < I thought we were dying, or that someone was dying. >

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. “Here,” he said, handing Harry and Hermione a particularly large chunk. “Eat it. It’ll help.”

Harry looked down at it suspiciously. < Candy from strangers? >

< Fuck it, > Hermione said, shoving the whole chunk into her mouth. < I hope it does kill me. >

“What was that thing?” Harry asked.

“A Dementor,” said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.” Everyone stared at him in further horror. “Eat,” he repeated. “It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me …”

“He not lyin’,” Hermione mumbled through her mouthful, “choc’late d’licious!”

“I still don’t understand,” Harry said, ignoring the noises coming out of his sister. “What happened?”

“The Dementor … it kind of swooped in and, well,” Neville said. “It looked like you were both having a fit or something. You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat towards each other and started twitching. The Professor stepped over you and pulled out his wand and said ‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But the Dementor didn’t move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away …” Neville shuddered, and Ginny let out a sob. “It was awful, it was so cold, and I felt like I’d never be happy again.”

“But none of you fell off your seats?” Harry said awkwardly. Neville shook his head.

< I don’t understand. Why did we faint when no-one else did? > he said. He felt weak and shivery, as though he was recovering from a bad bout of flu and could feel that Hermione was exactly the same.

< Well, I did say that dementors would probably be something fucking horrible, > Hermione said, hugging Crookshanks to her. < Sure hate to be right all the time. >

Professor Lupin re-entered the compartment. He paused as he entered, looked around and said, with a small smile, “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know.” Harry took a tentative bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread throughout his body.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,” said Professor Lupin. “Hermione, Harry. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he replied, feeling embarrassed. < I fucking hate being recognisable. >

< I’m sure we know him, > Hermione said. < I just can’t think where. >

< Why would we know him? > Harry said, now in a terrible mood. < We don’t know bloody anyone. >

The compartment was silent for the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get out. A familiar voice boomed over all the noise, Hagrid beckoning all the new first-years forward. He waved at Harry and Hermione before heading off towards the lake. The twins followed the mass of people towards the stagecoaches, climbing into one and collapsing into a seat. The coach smelled faintly of mould and straw and rocked and swayed as they made their way towards the castle.

As the carriage trundled towards a pair of magnificent wrought-iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, they saw two more towering, hooded Dementors, hovering either side. The bond echoed between them as another wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf them. They gripped hands tightly, leaning back into the seat, sighing as the sensation eased as they passed through the gate and up to the castle.

-/-

Harry stared tiredly at the table in front of him, wishing the Sorting would hurry up. He felt like he hadn’t eaten all day, a fog still hanging over him. Hermione was sitting next to him and had so far ignored every attempt to talk to her. Harry woefully realised that this was not helping their quest to be better friends with their housemates.

Silence fell as Professor Dumbledore stood. “Welcome,” he called, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast.” He cleared his throat and looked gravely around the hall before continuing. “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not fooled by tricks or disguises or Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors.” The hall remained deathly silent at his pronouncement. “On a happier note,” he continued, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic, applause. Harry tried to put effort into it, grateful for what the man had done on the train. He looked up at the High Table. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. Snape’s face caught his eye and he nudged Hermione over the bond. She startled at the expression twisting Snape’s face. It was beyond anger; it was complete and utter loathing.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued, as the lukewarm applause died away, “well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, stunned at the news, half-heartedly joining in on the clapping. < He kept a giant spider as a pet, > Harry said in dazed horror.

< Explains the biting book, > Hermione replied, her face unable to decide if she was pleased or horrified.

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink, and the twins, completely ravenous, ignored their faked table manners and piled their plates high.

They made their way towards the dormitory after the feast but were stopped by a stony-faced Snape. < Oh, for fucksake, > Hermione whined. < I just want to go to fucking bed. I don’t have the energy for this. >

To their surprise however, he herded them towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey bustled towards them as they entered. “Professor Lupin told us that you had taken ill on the train,” she said.

< Well, I don’t like him anymore, > Harry said petulantly, looking over as Neville, Ginny, and Luna entered the hospital wing as well. “We’re fine, Madam Pomfrey. No harm done.”

She snorted at that. “I doubt that. Setting Dementors around a school,” she shook her head as she pushed them all into beds. “You lot won’t be the first to collapse. Dementors are terrible things, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate …”

“We’re not delicate,” Hermione said hotly, as Madam Pomfrey flashed a light into her eyes.

“You’ll probably need to stay the night,” the matron replied, turning to the other students. Harry was too tired to argue and pulled the blanket over him. 

Hermione kicked him just as he dozed off and gave him a look. He glanced around the hospital wing to see that everyone else was asleep. < Use your words, Mi, > he said sleepily.

< You told Ginny we’d help her out, > she said. 

Harry could have wept; he was so tired. < Gods, this is why we don’t help people, > he whined, swinging his feet over the bed and padding over to Madam Pomfrey’s office. < Maybe she’ll kill me for disturbing her and I can finally get some rest. > He tentatively stuck his head in, and the matron looked up at him.

“Are you alright, Mr Potter?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You need to get Dumbledore. Ginny is still showing signs of possession. He needs to look at her.”

“What?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, a look of shock on her face.

< Gods, I hate this school, she really did get no medical care, > Harry said. “From last year,” he mumbled tiredly. “Dumbledore knows about it.” He stumbled back to bed, hoping Pomfrey would do the rest.


	10. First Day of Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First day back at Hogwarts and the twins are already over it. 
> 
> Mindspeak is denoted by < xx >

Hermione jerked awake the next day, the scream from yesterday echoing in her mind. She relaxed a tiny bit when she saw her brother lying in the bed next to her, his bleary eyes telling her they’d shared the nightmare. < Welcome back to Hogwarts! > she muttered. He groaned back at her, pulling the blanket up higher.

Further rest was out of the picture though, as the hospital doors opened, and the Headmaster and Snape swept in. Hermione glanced around and realised that only her, Harry, and Ginny were left. < Well, we did say we’d help her, > she said, nudging Harry.

“Good morning,” Dumbledore said solemnly, his tone jarring with his bright purple robes. “I am given to understand that you think Ginny is still somehow possessed.”

“Not exactly,” Harry explained. “But she can speak Parseltongue now.” Both Snape and Dumbledore’s eyebrows hiked at that, turning to examine Ginny. “I don’t think she can be possessed; we saw Riddle die. We thought it was maybe more like what happened to us.”

Dumbledore gently approached Ginny. “Miss Weasley, you have my apologies that this wasn’t picked up earlier.” Harry repressed an eye-roll at that. “If you would allow it, I would like to examine your mind, make sure you are not suffering any ill effects.”

< Just trauma but never mind that, > Hermione said sourly. < We’re gonna be late for first class at this rate. > They watched as Dumbledore performed Legilimency on Ginny, the young girl shaking as he sorted through her mind. After ten minutes, he leant back, a brighter look in his eye.

“You are not still possessed, Miss Weasley,” he said gently. “And you are not a monster; it is Voldemort, as always, that is the monster. I don’t know why you can now speak Parseltongue, beyond the same guess I have for these two – that somehow some of his powers have passed onto you. In this case, it appears just the Parseltongue.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

-/-

By the time they got out of the Hospital Wing and found their trunks in the dormitory, first period was nearly over. Hedwig had been deeply unimpressed at being locked in the trunk for so long, clipping them both with her wings as she took off. The twins set off for second period, both irritated as they’d been looking forward to Arithmancy and, scowling, made their way to Transfiguration.

They were the first ones there, grabbing a seat at the front, and groaned again when they saw they were sharing with the Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall started lecturing on Animagi – wizards and witches who could transform at will into animals. Both of them perked up at that, immediately devolving into an argument over what animals they’d like to transform into, and almost missed it when McGonagall transformed herself into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

Professor McGonagall turned back into herself with a faint pop and looked disapprovingly around the classroom. “Really, what has got into you all today? Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation’s not got an applause from a class.”

Harry glanced around the class and watched as nearly everyone turned their heads towards him and Hermione. He nudged her over the bond, and she turned to see the sea of stares. “What?” she said bluntly.

One of the Gryffindor girls – Parvati Patil – spoke up. “We just had our first Divination class, Professor, and well, we were all reading our tea leaves, but Professor Trelawney …”

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall said curtly, with a frown. “No need to say anything further. Tell me, which of you did she say will be dying this year?”

< Oh no, > Harry said, as the class once again turned to stare at them. “We weren’t even in the class!” he protested. “We’re not doing Divination.”

Daphne spoke up then. “All our tea leaves seemed fine, but she said there was a vibration in the room, that the wings of death had brushed past all of us, and then she … she staggered backwards and said she could see the Grim, that it was stalking you two.”

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes so hard you could practically hear it. “Professor Trelawney had predicted the death of a student every year since she arrived at this school. So far, none of them have died. Seeing death omens is her favourite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues –“ She broke off at that and made a face. “Divination is one of the more imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare indeed.” She looked at the twins. “You both look fine, but nevertheless, I assure you that if you die, you need not hand in your homework.”

Hermione laughed loudly at that, but the rest of the class remained silent, still staring at them worried. “For crying out loud,” she snapped. “We’re not dead, would you all relax?”

“Have you seen a Grim?” asked Parvati. “They’re said to be great big black dogs with gleaming eyes.”

The twins couldn’t help but glance at each other. Draco gasped in horror, “You have seen one, haven’t you?” The rest of the usually-cool Slytherins looked even more concerned.

“We may have seen a big black dog with gleaming eyes,” Harry said. “But it was really friendly! We patted it. Anyway, that was like a month ago now and we’re fine.”

The class drew back, some of them even pushing their chairs back, as though the twins were suddenly contagious.

“Enough!” interrupted Professor McGonagall, although Hermione saw that even she had paled at that. “We are here to learn about Animagi,” and she continued lecturing as though nothing had happened.

< Fanfuckingtasting, > Hermione said. < Now the entire class thinks we’re touched by death. >

< I can’t believe you made me pat a Grim, > Harry sulked.

-/-

They were pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. It was only day one and people were acting like they were walking corpses. Yesterday’s rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale grey and the grass and was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. Harry and Hermione walked down towards Hagrid’s hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was waiting for them, standing at the door of his hut in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels.

Hermione gave Fang a narrow look, remembering how he’d abandoned them in the Forest twice before. He wagged his tail happily back at her.

“C’mon, now, get a move on!” Hagrid called, as the class approached. “Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”

For one nasty moment, Harry and Hermione thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the Forest, and Harry had to grab her hand to stop her from sprinting back to the castle immediately. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock filled with bizarre-looking creatures. They had the bodies, hind legs and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking.

< Fuck no, > Hermione said. < Like ok, it’s not a massive spider, but whatever the hell these are could definitely also kill us. >

< That’s why we did this stupid class, > Harry said. < So we’d know about all the fucking creatures in this world that can kill us. Why? Oh, that’s right – because we keep fucking running into them! >

“Everyone gather round the fence here!” he called. “That’s it – make sure yeh can see. Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books –“

“How?” Draco drawled, looking supremely unimpressed as he held out his textbook that was bound shut with a length of rope. The rest of the class took theirs out, too; some had belted their book shut, others had crammed them inside tight bags, or clamped them together with bullclips.

“Hasn’ – hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?” said Hagrid, looking crestfallen. “Yeh’ve jus’ got ter stroke ‘em!” He took the belt off Harry’s book and ran his finger down the spine. To the class’s amazement, the book shivered and then quietly fell open.

Hermione was pinching her brow. < Only Hagrid, > she muttered, taking the defanged book back off him. The rest of the class was muttering sarcastically as well as they opened their books.

Hagrid entered the paddock and approached the herd. “Hippogriffs,” he roared happily. “Beautiful, aren’ they? Come on, come a bit closer to the fence.” No-one moved an inch. “Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ Hippogriffs is they’re proud – easily offended. Don’t never insult one, ‘cause it might be the last thing yeh do.” 

< Oh, they’re like you, > Harry said, jabbing Hermione who stuck her tongue out at him childishly.

“Yeh always wait for the Hippogriff ter make the firs’ move,” Hagrid continued. “It’s polite, see? Yeh walk towards him, and yeh bow, an’ yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh’re allowed ter touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then get away from him sharpish, ‘cause those talons hurt.”

“Right,” he said, clapping his huge hands together. “Who wants ter go first?”

The rest of the class stepped even further away at that, leaving Harry and Hermione closest to the fence. < Oh fuck, > Harry said.

“Harry!” Hagrid beamed widely. “Right then – let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.”

There was an intake of breath from behind them and Parvati whispered, “Oooh, no, Harry, remember what Professor Trelawney said!”

Harry ignored them and climbed over the paddock fence and approached Hagrid and a grey Hippogriff that Hagrid proclaimed as Buckbeak.

“Easy now, Harry,” Hagrid said quietly. “Yeh’ve got eye contact, now try not ter blink – Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much …”

Harry’s eyes immediately began to water, but he didn’t shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head, and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. < Please get revenge for my death, > he said.

“Tha’s it,” said Hagrid. “Tha’s it, Harry … now, bow …”

Harry didn’t feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told. He gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn’t move.

“Ah,” said Hagrid, sounding worried. “Right – back away, now, Harry, easy does it –“

But then, to Harry’s enormous surprise and relief, the Hippogriff suddenly bent his scaly front knees, and sank into what was an unmistakeable bow. Hermione let out a loud sigh of relief over the bond.

“Well done, Harry!” said Hagrid, ecstatic. “Right – yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!”

< I’d honestly prefer to keep backing away, > Harry said, moving slowly towards the Hippogriff. He patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed his eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

< Hagrid’s not going to teach us how to kill anything, is he? > Hermione said. < I mean, this is fine. I can bow for my life, but I doubt a bow works on anything else. >

“Righ’ then,” Hagrid said, “I reckon he migh’ let yeh ride him!” Before Harry could protest, Hagrid had picked him up and put him on Buckbeak’s back. “Mind yeh don’ pull any of his feathers out, he won’ like that.”

< There’re only feathers to hold onto, > Harry said, starting to feel panicked. Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry; he had just enough time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upwards. < Fuck! > he screeched, the wings catching him under his legs with each beat and making him feel like he was about to be thrown off. Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Harry had been dreading. He leant back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling he was going to slip off over the beak. He felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground and just managed to hold on.

“Good work, Harry!” roared Hagrid, clapping loudly. “OK, who else wants a go?” Harry slipped off Buckbeak and hurried back to Hermione, heart still thumping.

Emboldened by Harry’s success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously all over the paddock. Harry and Hermione watched as Neville ran repeatedly backwards from his which didn’t seem to want to bend its knees.

Weasley and Finnegan had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to them, and they were now patting his beak. Weasley shot Harry a look of pure venom. “Of course, if it’ll bow for a snake, then I don’t know if it’s actually very discerning.” He looked at Buckbeak, “You might want to get some taste.”

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Weasley let out a high-pitched scream and the next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he continued to strain to attack Weasley, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

“I’m dying!” Weasley screeched, as the class panicked and scattered. “You heard Trelawney – the wings of death have brushed over all of us. It’s them! They’re coming for us!”

< I wish death was coming for him, > Hermione said conversationally, as Weasley continued to shriek loudly that he was dying.

“Yer not dyin’!” Hagrid said, who had gone very white, as he scooped up Weasley and ran with him up the slope towards the castle. The twins saw a long, deep gash in Ron’s arm, blood spattering the grass.

< I hope it really fucking hurts, > Harry said savagely, as the rest of the class skirted around them.

-/-

They visited Hagrid after dinner. The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid’s hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, “C’min.”

Hagrid was sitting in his shirt-sleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid’s lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty in getting them into focus.

“’Spect it’s a record,” he said thickly, when he recognised them. “Don’ reckon they’ve ever had a teacher who on’y lasted a day before.”

“What!” Hermione said. “How can they have sacked you?”

“They haven’ yet,” Hagrid said miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. “But ‘s only a matter o’ time, i’n’t it?”

“It was a bloody scratch that he got because he didn’t listen to what you said and went and insulted Beakbeak,” Hermione said. “Because he’s a moron of the highest degree.”

“Madam Pomfrey fixed him best as she could,” Hagrid said dully, “but he’s sayin’ it’s still agony.”

“Ugh, he’s faking it,” Harry said. “Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year.”

“School gov’nors have bin told, o’ course,” said Hagrid miserably. “They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later … done Flobberworms or summat … jus’ thought it’d make a good firs’ lesson … ‘s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Hagrid,” Harry said firmly.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes and he grabbed Harry and Hermione and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

“Ok, I think you’ve had enough to drink,” Harry said, taking the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

“Ar, yeh’re probably righ’,” Hagrid said, heaving himself outside unsteadily. They watched in amazement as he stuck his head in the water barrel and emerged with his long hair and beard sopping wet. “Tha’s better,” he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them both. “Listen, it was good of yehs ter come an’ see me.”

He stopped dead, staring at them both as though he’d only just realised they were there. Harry and Hermione stared back at him in confusion.

“WHAT D’YEH THINK YEH’RE DOIN’, EH?” he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. “YEH’RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN’ AROUND DARK!” Hagrid took a deep breath in. “C’mon! I’m takin’ yer back up ter school, an’ don’ let me catch yeh walkin’ down ter see me after dark again. I’m not worth that!”

< Fucking hell, > Hermione said. < Can you believe this is only day one? >


	11. Shrink that Boggart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's mouth and its ongoing campaign to get them in trouble. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Leave a kudos or a comment, I love to hear your thoughts :) :)

The twins were seated in the dungeons, waiting for Snape to arrive for Potions class, when Weasley swaggered in, his arm covered in bandages, acting like he was the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

“How is it, Ron?” simpered Lavender Brown. “Does it hurt much?”

“I can handle it,” Ron replied, putting on a brave sort of grimace as he saw down next to her.

< I could make it hurt, > Hermione snapped, her hands curling into fists.

“Did we all see the news?” Seamus Finnegan piped up. “In the _Daily Prophet_ this morning – they reckon Sirius Black’s been sighted.”

“Where?” asked Draco, still giving Weasley a withering look.

“Not too far from here,” said Seamus, who looked excited. “It was a Muggle who saw him. Course, she didn’t really understand. The Muggles think he’s just an ordinary criminal, don’t they? So she phoned the hotline but by the time the Ministry got there, he was gone.”

“Well we all know why he’s coming towards Hogwarts, don’t we?” Ron said, with a malicious look in his eyes.

< I have a feeling our popularity is about to take a plunge, > Harry muttered.

< What popularity? > Hermione replied, as murmurs swept through the classroom.

“It’s because of them!” Ron cried loudly, gesturing towards the twins. “He’s hunting them. Once again, our lives are going to be in danger because of them.”

The entire class turned to look at Harry and Hermione, something that they were getting incredibly sick of. They were saved from having to come up with something by Snape entering the classroom, his robes flaring behind him dramatically as always.

“Settle down,” he said curtly. “We’re brewing the Shrinking Solution today. Instructions on the board.”

Harry and Hermione set to work, perfectly in tandem as they fetched the ingredients and started the fire for the cauldron. < Do you reckon it’s a spell? > Harry said, as he started chopping the daisy roots.

< What? There’s no spells in this potion. >

< No, how Snape’s robes always flare behind him. I reckon it’s a spell, > Harry said.

< The entire class now thinks they’re all in mortal danger because of us and you’re wondering if Snape uses a spell to look more dramatic? > Hermione said in amazement.

“Sir,” Weasley called, “I might need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm.”

Hermione had to press her face into Harry’s shoulder to stop the giggles as Snape swept past Weasley, utterly ignoring him.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned –

“Orange, Longbottom,” said Snape, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. “Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?”

< Git, > Harry and Hermione said at the same time, watching as Neville trembled on the verge of tears. “Sir, I could help Neville put it right,” Hermione piped up.

Snape turned and fixed her with a cold glare. “I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Potter.”

The entire class gasped at that – never in living memory had Snape gone against one of his precious Slytherins, especially in a class with Gryffindors.

“And I don’t remember anyone asking you to bully a thirteen-year-old boy,” Hermione shot right back, sugar entering her voice as she smiled her patented innocent smile. “Does it make you feel big? Does it make up for all the bullying you got when you were his age?”

< Forget Sirius Black, > Harry hissed. < Snape is going to murder us right now. **What** the **fuck** are you doing? >

< Standing up for Neville, > Hermione said, still staring Snape down with a smile. < Fuck this guy. >

“GET OUT!” Snape shouted, a red tinge entering his normally pallid face. “Get out of my class this instant!”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing Hermione and then Neville, and swiftly exiting the class before Snape could remember to take points or assign detention. The entire class was silent, looks of absolute shock on their faces, as they left.

< Your mouth is going to get us fucking killed one day, > Harry berated. < He clearly hasn’t forgiven us for the last altercation we had with him. >

< I don’t care, > Hermione replied. < He thinks he can just waltz around in his dramatic black robe and bully people into the ground. He says he joined the right side, but his actions are always that of a Death Eater bully. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him. > She turned to Neville. “You’re to sit with us in Potions from now on. Snape can bully me all he wants, I don’t care. But it’s not right that he bullies you.”

Neville mumbled something, tears now coming out of his eyes.

“What my sister is trying to say,” Harry said, sighing loudly, “is that you are our friend and we won’t stand by while someone hurts you. You killed the Basilisk for us, so we know you’d do the same.”

“That was just a fluke,” Neville whispered. “I shouldn’t be in Gryffindor, I’m not even brave enough to stand up to Snape.”

“I’m sure if you had a sword you could,” Hermione said.

“We’re not slaying the Potions Master,” Harry said. “You’re the one who pulled the sword of Gryffindor, Neville. You are brave. But that doesn’t mean you have to put up with all of Snape’s shit. Sit with us in potions. Save your slaying skills for another day.” 

-/-

Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The Slytherins had sat down, taken out their books, quills and parchment, and were quietly talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands.”

< Bets? Better or worse than the cage of pixies, > Harry joked, as they followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom and along a deserted corridor. They came around the corner and saw Peeves the poltergeist, who was floating upside-down in mid-air and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. He didn’t look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away, then he wriggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. “Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin!”

Professor Lupin smiled up at the poltergeist. “I’d take that gum out of the keyhole, if I were you, Peeves,” he said pleasantly. “Mr Filch won’t be able to get into his brooms.”

Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin’s words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. “This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Please watch closely.” He raised the wand to shoulder height, said _“Waddiwasi!”_ and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves’s left nostril; he whirled the right way up and zoomed away, cursing loudly, as the class laughed.

They set off again as Professor Lupin led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staff-room door. “Inside, please,” said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staff room, a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed inside. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, “Leave it open, Lupin.” He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes again billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, “Possibly no-one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains the Potter twins. They’re as arrogant and foolish as their father.” Snape slammed the door behind him as he left.

< That was almost a compliment, really, > Harry said.

“Now, then,” said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing except an old wardrobe in which the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. “Nothing to worry about,” said Professor Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped backwards in alarm. “There’s a Boggart in there.”

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about, Blaise eyeing the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” said Professor Lupin. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?”

Hermione put her hand up. “It’s a shape-shifter,” she said. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Professor Lupin. “So, the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means, of course, that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?”

“Because there are so many of us, it won’t know what shape it should be,” he replied calmly.

“Precisely,” said Professor Lupin. “It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.”

“The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please … _Riddikulus!”_

_“Riddikulus!”_ the class said together.

“Good,” said Professor Lupin. “Very good, but that was the easy part, I’m afraid. The word alone is not enough. Now, I would like all of you to take a moment to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical …”

“Hang on,” Pansy said. “You expect us to reveal our greatest fears to the rest of the class?”

“You don’t trust your classmates?” Professor Lupin said mildly. “I thought the first rule of Slytherin House was that you stick together.” Everyone blinked at that, trying to come up with an argument that didn’t go against their own house. “If you are concerned, you can always promise each other that nothing that happens will leave this room.” No-one moved at that either, not wanting to swear on their magic for it. Lupin nodded slowly. “Very well, please think now about how you might make your fear into something comical.”

< We could give Voldemort a nose, > Harry joked, before the bond hummed between them and a horrible image came floating to the surface of their mind. A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak, a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning, a terrified scream.

“Everyone ready?” Professor Lupin asked. “Would someone like to volunteer to go first?”

There was complete silence at that which went on for an uncomfortable amount of time, neither side willing to break first. Harry sighed and put his hand up, to the relief of the rest of the class.

“Thank you,” said Professor Lupin. “We’re going to back away, let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward … everyone back now, so Harry can get a clear shot.”

They all retreated, Hermione rather unwilling, not wanting to leave Harry alone. < Remind me to start throwing someone else under the bus, > he said.

“On the count of three, Harry,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “One – two – three – now!” A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open and out stepped –

Harry, an identical copy to the one pointing his wand at the Boggart, right down to his slightly crumpled robes.

No, not completely identical, Harry realised, as he looked into his own eyes. Harry and Hermione realised at once what they were seeing in the Boggart’s eyes – this was Harry alone, the bond broken, no Hermione with him, his utter brokenness shining out of his eyes. Their worst fear. 

< Fuck no, > Hermione seethed, as Harry stood there in shock. < I am always with you; I am **always** here. > She shoved her way down the bond and into Harry’s mind. < There’s nothing we can’t do together, Me Me. >

The Boggart-Harry took a step back as Hermione entered Harry’s mind, a look of confusion gracing his face. Slowly, his edges began to blur and twist before the Boggart suddenly shifted into –

“Here!” shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.

_Crack!_

The Boggart had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said _“Riddikulus!”_ almost lazily.

_Crack!_

“Forward, Daphne,” Lupin said, as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Daphne walked forward apprehensively, her wand out, and with another crack, the Boggart shifted into her Petrified body, a Basilisk rearing over her, hissing oddly in English that she was unworthy of magic. She screamed _“Riddikulus!”_ and the scene shifted, and Pansy marched forward.

She was tied to a stake, screaming, as the flames underneath her burnt higher and higher towards her. A furious look crossed her face and she also shouted out the incantation, the scene cracking.

Theo was up next, his face tight with worry as he stepped past Pansy. The Boggart shifted into a copy of Theo who was being held down by his father who was pressing a white-hot brand into Theo’s flesh, screaming ‘You will take it, you **will** take it!’

< Fuck, this is grim, > Hermione said, furious on behalf of her classmates.

Theo stood there, completely wordless, shaking at the sight, and Professor Lupin once again stepped in, the Boggart shifting back to the silvery-white orb, before he banished it back into the wardrobe.

“Well done everyone,” Lupin said quietly, his face tight at what he'd just witnessed. “You are a credit to your house. Five points to Slytherin for everyone here. If you need to talk, my door is always open. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me … to be handed in next lesson. That will be all.”

The Slytherins all trooped out silently, not making eye contact with each other. < I don’t know if that was better or worse than the pixies, > Harry mused. < I mean, he seems like a better teacher than Lockhart … admittedly, that’s a low bar. But making us face our worse fears? Fucking hell. >

Before Hermione could reply, Pansy whirled around, a determined look on her face. “Everyone, into that classroom,” she said, pointing at an empty room. “House meeting now!”


	12. Our Greatest Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the Slytherins come together?
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> I love all your comments, thank you so much to everyone who has left a comment so far!!  
> After a few hectic shifts, I've got a few days off so am hoping to finish off this particular arc of the story this week.  
> Sound off and let me know what you think :)

“I’ve had it,” Pansy said, as they sat up on the desks and looked at her. “The first rule of our House is that we stick together, and we haven’t been doing that for some time now. That ends today.” She stared around at all of them, but no-one dared to say anything. “And before anyone starts, we’re all at fault. Draco, I know you betrayed Harry and Hermione last year when you told the Ravenclaws about their Parseltongue. None of you spoke to Daphne and me for a while because you wanted to distance yourselves from us, thinking we were unworthy. Harry and Hermione, you two have your own agenda and spend too much time in your own heads, ignoring your own House. And now, half of us have just had our greatest fears revealed. We need to come together.”

“A pretty speech, Pansy,” Blaise drawled.

“I know your greatest fear is your mother murdering you,” Pansy shot back, which made Blaise shut his mouth and sit back down. “We are Slytherins! We have more talent in this room than the rest of the school put together. If we actually all worked together, we could change the world. But we actually have to come together first. So, we’re going to explain our greatest fears, one by one, and then we’re going to make a plan.”

< Girlfriend is speaking my language, > Hermione said admiringly. < I do love a plan. >

< Really? You’re going to reveal your greatest fear? > Harry said.

< I’m not ashamed to admit that being without you is my greatest fear, as being without me is yours, > Hermione said.

“I’ll start,” Pansy said, “to show how serious I am about this. When I was a little girl, I met a boy who lived near our Manor. I had been out exploring and had actually passed over the wardlines. I assumed he was like me because that’s all I knew, but he was actually a Muggle. I didn’t actually realise, we were just playing together, until my father found us. He was furious at me, raged against me for debasing myself with such a lowlife. I was in trouble for a long time and my father used that time to teach me all about how Muggles are dirty animal savages. I believed him, until a great big snake nearly killed me, being controlled by the same horrible monster who had started the new Blood Wars in the first place. And then you two reminded me that both our Lady Valentina and her lover Beckett died that day. I spent part of the summer looking both into our Lady Valentina and how she died as well as Muggles, behind my father’s back." She looked around the room at that, catching the various expressions on people's faces. 

"Don’t get me wrong, I have not become some Muggle-lover," Pansy said. "But listen to me, we’re wrong about them, and not in the way you think. They were a danger to us a thousand years ago when they murdered us because we had magic. They have only become more dangerous now. I could scarcely believe some of the things I learnt. Some of the things they have accomplished seem more magical than what we could ever do. Did you know they’ve been to the Moon? But some of the things they've done are far worse than anything we could do. 80 million people were murdered during their last War. It makes our Blood War seem like a squabble in comparison. I fear what would happen, if our worlds ever combined again, because there are far more of them, and they have deadlier weapons than we could ever imagine. The magical community needs to come together, and that includes the Muggle-borns. They aren’t the threat, but the world they come from is. That’s my greatest fear – that our world will be exposed, and the witch-burnings will start again.”

< That is fucking grim, > Harry said, as everyone stared at Pansy.

< She’s got a point, > Hermione said. < Our uncle pointed a shotgun at us. I really do think he would have fired it if he could. Imagine if the whole world knew about magic … some of them want to use you, some of them want to abuse you. >

< I do like that song, > Harry said. < I wish we had more music here in the magical world. See, there’s lots that both worlds can offer. >

< This world is in danger though, if they think the Muggle world is just full of dirty savages. Is that what most people think? Like so far, nothing in this world has struck me as particularly forward-thinking or sensible, > Hermione said. < And like it or not, this is our world now. >

< Well, I’ll add it to your change-the-world list, > Harry said. “We agree with you, Pansy,” he said out loud. “It does represent a far greater threat than we realise. I mean, Muggles are fine, they’re just people like us, really, but I fear you are right to be afraid of the witch-burnings.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“We can go next, if you like,” Harry offered. “Our fear is obvious. We fear being alone, without our twin. I fear a life without Hermione, and she fears a life without me. We have been together our whole life, we’re never apart, and we’re all the other has. We have no other family.”

“I thought you lived with those Muggles,” Millicent piped up.

“They kept us in a cupboard our whole lives,” Hermione said bluntly. “Since we’re doing this whole open honesty thing. We ran away from home when Hagrid told us about Hogwarts. We would have never gone back if Sirius Black wasn’t trying to murder us. Not that it did us any good, given our uncle tried to murder us these holidays, forcing us to run away again. We have no-one but each other, but that’s ok, because that’s all we need.”

“But you’re the Twins-Who-Lived,” Tracey breathed, the rest of the room in a state of utter shock. “I mean, before we found out you lived with Muggle relatives … well, I’m pretty sure the whole world thought you were living a life of luxury somewhere heavily protected.”

“Nope, just a cupboard,” Hermione said, grinning in a vaguely deranged manner. < I hope they don’t ask about the Boggart starting to shift. >

< I’m not explaining the bond, > Harry said. < The open honesty thing only goes so far. >

“I guess I can go next then,” Theo said heavily. “But what I say cannot leave this room.” He looked around at everyone with a thick glare. “My father only narrowly escaped Azkaban Prison after the last war, but he shouldn’t have, because he did everything he was accused of and then more, including murdering my mother. I won’t go into that … I honestly can’t," he said, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes and straightened up and continued. "But he believes in the Dark Lord and has told me many times that I will follow him when he returns, that I will be branded with the Mark. I want to be free, far away from my father, but I cannot leave my sisters, and we have nowhere to go. I can’t go anyway - someday I will become the new Lord Nott, and I want that, because I want to lead our family the way it should be, but I fear being branded and trapped before I can do that.”

“We could just poison your father,” Hermione said.

< No, we couldn’t, you lunatic, > Harry said. < He’s currently a pretty powerful Lord. >

< This world is stupid. I bet there are heaps of Muggle poisons that wouldn’t be picked up, > Hermione replied.

“We’re sorry you’re stuck there, Theo,” Harry said. “We know what it’s like to be trapped like that. But as Pansy said, the people in this room could change the world. We’ll try to find a way to help you.”

“He’s right,” Daphne piped up. “We can figure out a way to help you, Theo.” She smiled nervously around the room. “I guess I’ll go next. Go back a year ago and I’m not sure what my worst fear would have been but being Petrified was horrible. I am the eldest daughter of House Greengrass, and I have been taught all my life what an honour that is. That being a Pureblood Lady made me worthy. My parents didn’t follow the Dark Lord in the last War but nor did they stand against him. You two told me that magic protected me last year, that the Dark Lord went against the will of magic and against our Founder’s mission. I believe you; I believe it’s the only reason I’m alive. And if magic has protected me, then I need to continue to be worthy, and to do something worthy. I truly fear not being worthy of my magic, and so, to thee both, I say this: House Greengrass will follow you,” she said, nodding to the twins. “Will follow the true Heirs and be worthy of our magic.”

< Oh my gods, we’ve started a cult, > Harry said.


	13. Sharing Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cult begins!!
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

< Relax, it’s not a cult, > Hermione said, smiling at Daphne. < Now say something diplomatic to her. >

< What? You can only offer murder solutions? > Harry said. < Never mind, don’t answer that. > He also smiled at Daphne. “You are more than worthy, Daphne, but you don’t need to follow us. We want you beside us, with us, as we all go ahead and change the world.”

Daphne bowed her head to him. “Nothing would make me happier.”

< Well done, very diplomatic, > Hermione said. Harry heroically refrained from rolling his eyes at her.

“Rightly so, Harry,” Pansy said. “From here on, we’re all going to move together. Now, who’s next?”

Vincent, it turned out, was afraid of drowning as he’d nearly drowned as a child, while Greg was afraid of giants, as one had killed his uncle. Millicent was afraid of being kicked out of her family, because she felt like she wasn’t the girly daughter they wanted, and Blaise admitted that he was indeed afraid of his mother murdering him as she had murdered his father, and was also afraid of that feeling as he loved his mother deeply.

Tracey looked very nervous as her turn came around, and her voice was very quiet as she started, “I was surprised when the Sorting Hat called out Slytherin. I honestly thought I’d go to Ravenclaw or maybe even Hufflepuff, and I would have been fine with either of those. I’m a Half-blood – my dad is a wizard from House Davis while my mum is a Muggle. My dad took me away from my mum when I showed signs of magic, and I haven’t seen her since. My dad’s great and he loves me, but he married a witch later on, and my younger siblings are all Purebloods. I guess my biggest fear is you guys turning on me because I’m only a Half-blood, just like I fear my family eventually kicking me out for only being a Half-blood.”

“We would never,” Daphne exclaimed. “Tracey, you’re my closest friend!”

“And we’re Half-bloods too,” Hermione said. “You know what Slytherins always used to say? Blood matters but ability matters more. You have ability and ambition, Tracey! You’re a true Slytherin like the rest of us. I promise we’ll never turn on you.”

< Hey, that was vaguely diplomatic, Mi, > Harry said. < I’m impressed, who knew you had it in you. >

Draco was the only one left, and he gulped as everyone else turned and looked expectantly at him. “I’m not sure what the Boggart would have turned into for me, but I know it would be one of two things. I fear my father telling me I’m not worthy of being the Heir to House Malfoy, telling me I’m a disappointment and a failure. I think if we went back a year, that is definitely what would have manifested. But, given that we’re all being honest ... well, I fear ... I fear you, Hermione, and your snake, fear you turning against me because I’ve betrayed you again and this time you aren’t merciful.” Draco started to shake slightly, his eyes beginning to shine with tears. “I’m sorry for betraying you two, and I promise I’ll never do it again. As with Daphne, House Malfoy will follow you, will follow the true Heirs.”

< Fucking hell, > Hermione said. < What the fuck do I do? >

< You need to comfort him, > Harry said, also in shock. < Poor bastard, it was actually my idea to torture him like that, and he’s afraid of you. >

< Well, I am more terrifying, > Hermione said proudly. She gently approached Draco, putting on Harry’s softly kind face. “Draco, I know you’ll never betray us again. I don’t think you even meant to betray us in the first place; you thought you were helping us. For what it’s worth, we value your friendship highly, and we will not betray you. And as Harry said to Daphne, we don’t you to follow us. We want you beside us.”

“Now we all know our greatest fears,” Pansy said, standing up again. “And none of them make us weak and knowing them together will only make us stronger. From now on, we tackle our problems together! We use the group to solve our issues. We can’t change the world right now, but in a few years, we’ll be out of school. There’s no reason why the people in this room can’t change everything wrong with Wizarding Britain.”

“We should all promise,” Harry said. “Give our word to come together.” He grasped Hermione’s hand and pulled her up and reached his hand out to Pansy who took it with a smile. One by one they all joined hands and stood in a circle.

Pansy looked upwards. “By the Mother, I implore that we here be separated no more. Here we stand, our hearts united, promised to a future dreamland. By the holy Moon, the bright sun, the earth and air and fire and sea. With our minds and the ties that bind, so mote it be.”

A zap ran around the circle, burning their hands briefly, before they all let go and looked at each other.

< Well, this has been a sufficiently weird day, > Hermione said, rubbing her hand.

-/-

Defence classes were more pleasant moving forward, and quickly became everyone’s favourite class. Lupin’s next few lessons were just as interesting as the first, if not less traumatic. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had got lost. From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Unfortunately, Snape was in a particularly savage and vindictive mood of late. Word had quickly spread that Neville’s greatest fear was Professor Snape and that he had fought the Boggart by forcing Snape to wear his grandmother’s vulture-stuffed hat and long green dress. He was increasingly mean to Neville in Potions, but he now sat with the twins and managed to weather the storm fairly well. Trelawney continued to predict the twins’ doom in each lesson, despite the fact that they weren’t even in the class. Harry had to stop Hermione from marching up the North Tower to give her a piece of her mind.

Care of Magical Creatures had unfortunately become extremely dull. Hagrid had lost his nerve, and the news that someone unknown had complained further about it and that there may be an investigation had crushed any joy out of the class entirely. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after Flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence. This gave Hermione a lot of time to fantasise about what creative way she’d get revenge on the person who’d complained. To her deepest disappointment, the Weasley twins had confirmed that the complaint hadn’t come from anyone in their family. Not that she needed a reason to get revenge on Ron, she reminded Harry.

Harry didn’t bother trying to stop her as Quidditch season had started again, much to Hermione’s chagrin as it meant she had to spend afternoon’s down at the Quidditch Pitch. But it made Harry happy, so she put up with it. The team was unchanged from last year, and Flint was ferociously determined that the Cup would be theirs, or else.

All this meant that October was flying past rather quickly until one day in Potions when Snape asked for their Hogsmeade permission slips. Hermione had gleefully handed theirs over, fondly remembering threatening Aunt Petunia. Her glee significantly diminished however when Snape told them both to remain after class.

< What the hell is this about? > Harry asked, as they packed away their cauldron.

< No idea, I haven’t told him to like fuck off since that Potions lesson with Neville, > Hermione said. < And I’ve wanted to, but I’ve held back. >

< A real struggle, I’m sure, > Harry said dryly.

“I see you got your Hogsmeade slip signed,” Snape said, looking down at them both.

“We sure did, sir,” Hermione chirped. “That’s Aunt Petunia’s signature right there.”

“Well, not to disappoint,” he said, his lips curling slightly.

< And yet, I know he’s about to disappoint, > Harry said.

They watched as Snape set their permission slip on fire and it burned up in front of them.

< A metaphor for his career? His love life? > Hermione said, her eyes narrowing at the Potions Master.

“It gives me no joy to tell you,” he said, looking very close to joy, “that with Black on the loose, you two are not permitted to go to Hogsmeade this year. Rest assured that if Black is caught, I may consider giving permission.”

< Git, > Harry and Hermione said in sync, turning their back and leaving the class without saying a word.


	14. Hell to Halloween III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween !!! 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Thanks for all your comments, I love reading them :) :)  
> Next few chapters should be up soon xx

They woke on Halloween morning feeling thoroughly depressed but were buoyed by the rest of their Slytherin group telling them they’d bring back loads of sweets from Honeydukes for them to try. Harry and Hermione accompanied them all to the Entrance Hall, where Filch was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no-one was sneaking out who shouldn’t be going.

They wandered dispiritedly towards the library, each trying to motivate the other that their Arithmancy homework was what they really wanted to do. < Let me tell you, Halloween is just not a good time of the year, > Harry moped.

< Ugh, > Hermione replied. < We should at least go to the feast this year. We haven’t gone the last two years and that has gone fucking awfully for us on both occasions. >

< I don’t wanna study, > Harry said. < We’re well ahead with our work. Wanna go just hang out in the trunk instead? > He turned around without waiting for a reply and came face to face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors. < Fuck, > he said, jumping slightly.

“What are you doing?” Filch snarled suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Hermione snarled right back.

“Nothing!” spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. “A likely story! Sneaking around; why aren’t you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends? Get back to your common room where you belong.”

They passed him, Hermione making a face, and headed out of sight, walking down another corridor, heading back towards the common room when a voice from inside one of the rooms called out their names.

They doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door. “What are you two up to?” he said pleasantly.

“Not much,” Harry said.

“Would you like to come in?” Lupin asked. “I’ve just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson.”

They followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly-green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

“A water demon,” said Lupin, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully, as Hermione made faces back at the creature. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.”

The Grindylow bared its green teeth at Hermione and then buried itself in a tangle of weed in a corner. < I think I won that fight, > Hermione said smugly.

< Mmm, one look at your ugly mug, > Harry said, dodging her elbow.

“Cup of tea?” Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.”

“Alright,” Harry said awkwardly. < This is weird, right? >

< I honestly can’t tell anymore, > Hermione said. < Probably though. I’ve said it a million times – no-one fun ever wants to meet us. >

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout, and he went about pouring the tea for them. They sat there in silence staring at each other.

< Now it’s definitely weird, > Hermione said, taking a sip of her tea.

< I’m about to make it worse, > Harry said. “You know that day we fought the Boggart,” he said, looking at Lupin. “Why did you interrupt and put yourself in front of it?”

“If my brain had been working slightly faster that day, I never would have let you face it in the first place,” Lupin said.

“Why?” Harry asked confused.

“I would have thought that would be obvious,” Lupin said. “I mean, I was surprised to see it initially turn into yourself, but then when I saw it starting to shift again … well, I assumed that the Boggart was about to take the shape of Lord Voldemort.”

They both stared at him. Not only was it not the answer they’d expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort’s name. The only person other than themselves who ever said the name out loud was Professor Dumbledore.

“Clearly, I was wrong,” Lupin said, taking in their faces, frowning slightly. “But I didn’t think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialise in the staff room. I imagined that people would panic.”

“We did think of Voldemort first,” Harry said honestly, “but then we remembered those Dementors.”

“I see,” Lupin said thoughtfully. “Well, I must say I’m impressed.” He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on their faces. “That suggests that what you fear most of all is fear. It’s actually quite wise. If you don’t mind me asking, why did it initially materialise as yourself?”

“I would have thought that would be obvious,” Harry mimicked back with a smile. “I fear a life without Hermione, and she fears a life without me. We’ve been together our whole life; we have no other family.”

“Quite so,” Lupin said, his face suddenly tightening, his knuckles tightening around the mug.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she surveyed his face. < I think he knows us, > she said.

< Everyone fucking knows us, > Harry said.

Before she could reply, there was a knock on the door, and Snape entered. They stared at him as he walked into the room, carrying a large goblet that was smoking faintly. Snape stopped at the sight of them, his black eyes narrowing back at them. Hermione gave him a large smile, calling him a very rude name over the bond.

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin said, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”

Snape set the smoking goblet down, his eyes wandering between the twins and Lupin.

“I was just showing Harry and Hermione my Grindylow,” said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

“Fascinating,” drawled Snape, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” Lupin said.

“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.”

“I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”

“Not at all,” said Snape, but there was a look in his eye that neither Harry nor Hermione liked. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful. Hermione looked at the goblet suspiciously.

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuddering. “I’ve been feeling a bit off-colour and this potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it.” The twins stared at Lupin in horror as he drained the goblet and pulled a face. “Well, I’d better get back to work. Thanks for visiting me. I’ll see you at the feast.”

Harry and Hermione left the room silently, furiously debating what on earth the potion had been and whether or nor Snape would poison Lupin, and hurried straight to the library to start researching.

-/-

They stopped and stared at the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

< Wow, > Harry said, taking it all in. < This definitely beats being nearly killed by a troll. >

The food was delicious and they both stuffed themselves while listening to everyone regale them with tales of Hogsmeade. They both kept glancing at the staff table, unable to help themselves, but Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did, chatting animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick. They eyed off Snape, unsure if Snape’s eyes were flickering towards Lupin more often than normal.

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a spot of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a re-enactment of his own botched beheading.

Harry and Hermione were in a very good mood as they headed back to the Common Room, feeling full and warm and happy. < This is definitely better than the whole school thinking we opened the Chamber of Secrets and murdered a cat, > Hermione said, as they entered the Common Room. < Apparently Tracey has organised a game for us to play tonight. >

A loud voice echoed throughout the castle before anyone could go any further. It was Professor McGonagall. “All students will return to the Great Hall at once. Prefects, please return all students to the Great Hall in an orderly fashion. No-one is to travel alone.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. < Well, at least this doesn’t involve us for a change, > Harry said.

-/-

All four Houses congregated in the Great Hall, most people looking extremely confused.

“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the Hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he added to Percy Weasley, who was looking immensely proud and important. “Send word with one of the ghosts.”

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the Hall, and said, “Oh yes, you’ll be needing …” One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the Hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. “Sleep well,” said Professor Dumbledore, closing the doors behind him.

The Hall immediately began to buzz excitedly, the Gryffindors telling the rest of the school what had just happened. News quickly reached Harry and Hermione as countless heads turned their way. Sirius Black had attacked the Fat Lady, the portrait that marked the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. < For fucksake, > Hermione muttered, as their names were whispered all around the hall.

“Everyone into their sleeping bags!” shouted Percy. “Come on now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!”

Harry and Hermione grabbed a sleeping bag and settled in. Vincent and Greg lay on either side of them, looking around menacingly and flexing their muscles as though to fight off anyone who came near them. Hermione thought it was sweet, but Harry had to stifle a giggle.

< Well, thank fuck we went to the feast, > Hermione said as everyone settled in. < Imagine if we’d done our usual M.O, and just wandered around the castle again. We fucking would have run into him. >

< It doesn’t make sense, > Harry said. < Why would he try to get into Gryffindor Tower? >

< He mustn’t know what House we’re in, > Hermione said. < Our parents were in Gryffindor; he must just think that’s where we went. >

All around them, people were asking each other the same question: “How did he get in?”

“Maybe he knows how to Apparate,” said a Ravenclaw a few feet away. “Just appear out of thin air, you know.”

“Disguised himself, probably,” said a Hufflepuff fifth year.

“He could’ve flown in,” suggested a Gryffindor.

< Morons, the lot of them, > Hermione sniffed. < Am I the only person who’s ever bothered to read _Hogwarts, a History?_ >

< Almost certainly, > Harry replied.

< The castle’s protected by more than walls, Me Me, > Hermione said. < There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. The wards mean you can’t just Apparate in here. Disguises don’t fool Dementors, and they’re guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They’d have seen him fly in, too. And I bet Filch knows all the secret passages, they’ll have them covered. >

Something she said dinged in Harry’s mind and he tried to chase it, as Percy shouted out at the Hall. “The lights are going out now! I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!”

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the Prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the Hall, it was rather like sleeping outdoors in a light wind.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the Hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in. Harry watched him looking around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Percy was only a short way away from Harry and Hermione, who quickly pretended to be asleep as Dumbledore’s footsteps drew nearer.

“Any sign of him, Professor?” asked Percy in a whisper.

“No. All well here?”

“Everything under control, sir.”

“Good. There’s no point moving them all now. I’ve found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You’ll be able to move them back in tomorrow.”

“And the Fat Lady, sir?”

“Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently, she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She’s still very distressed, but once she’s calmed down, I’ll have Mr Filch restore her.”

They heard the door of the Hall creak open again, and more footsteps. “Headmaster,” came Snape’s voice. “The whole of the third floor has been searched. He’s not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there, either.”

“What about the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney’s room? The Owlery?”

“All searched.”

“Very well, Severus. I didn’t really expect Black to linger.”

“Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?” asked Snape.

“Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next.”

“You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before the start of the term?” Snape, who was barely whispering now.

“I do, Severus,” Dumbledore said, and there was something like warning in his voice.

“It seems – almost impossible – that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed –“

“I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” said Dumbledore, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Snape didn’t reply. “I must go down to the Dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete.”

“Didn’t they want to help, sir?” said Percy.

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said coldly. “But I’m afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster.”

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the Hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the Headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face, then he, too, left.

Harry shoved into Hermione’s head. < Did you hear that? > he shouted.

< I’m literally right next to you, > she snapped back. < Of course I heard. What are you thinking? You were thinking something really loudly. >

< It’s what you said. They’re guarding all the entrances. That doesn’t mean they’re guarding all the ways into the castle. Lateral thinking, Mi Mi. They’re not guarding the Forest, for starters. What were you thinking? >

< Snape said he expressed his concerns when Dumbledore appointed someone. He only appointed two people this year. Hagrid and Lupin. One of them must know something about Black! >


	15. Quidditch? More Like Quiddeath!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Love not doing anything useful for my adult life on my days off!! 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder. Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent a long time detailing how Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

It turned out that Sir Cadogan, the nutter that Harry and Hermione had encountered last year, had volunteered to replace the Fat Lady, a fact that every Gryffindor was loudly complaining about as he spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords.

Teachers were now watching Harry and Hermione closely, finding excuses to walk along the corridors with him. Hermione found that extremely irritating, and Harry had to clamp her mouth shut over the bond to stop them from constantly getting detentions. It also meant they hadn’t had a chance to talk to Lupin or Hagrid about Black.

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Slytherin team were training harder than ever for their upcoming match against Hufflepuff. The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. Hermione was completely ropable that the match was going to continue. < What the fuck kinda school allows a match that is played ON broomsticks IN THE AIR to go ahead when there’s a fucking thunderstorm going on? >

< They probably don’t know about electrocution, > Harry said, the gale outside pounding the windows furiously, as they made their way to Defence. Taking their usual seat at the front, they waited for Lupin to arrive, as Hermione continued to loudly berate anyone remotely involved in Quidditch.

“Good afternoon,” came a low voice. Harry turned in horror to see Snape walking towards the front of the room, his black robes billowing as usual.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” said Snape with a twisted smile. “So, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far, but no matter. Today, we shall discuss –“

Harry watched him flick through the textbook, muzzling both him and his sister from saying anything.

“- werewolves,” said Snape finally, his eyes flashing around the room. “Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four.” The Slytherins dutifully opened their textbooks, Harry and Hermione going back and forth about what could be wrong with Lupin.

“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” asked Snape. Without waiting for an answer, he started lecturing.

No-one made a sound throughout the lesson, everyone quietly making notes on werewolves from Snape’s lecture and the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down menacingly, continuing to wax on the dangers of werewolves.

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back with an odd smile. “You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognise and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning.”

Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class. < What is it, Mi? > Harry asked as they headed back towards the Common Room.

< Everyone has an agenda, > she said slowly. She stopped suddenly. < Come on, we need to go to the library. >

< Oh, Mi, please, > Harry begged. < It’s the match tomorrow. Can we go to the library on Sunday? You know I’d normally say yes. >

She scowled at him. < Fine, > she finally acceded. < But on Sunday, we’re going to the library. >

-/-

Harry woke extremely early the next morning, the roaring of the wind still audible even deep in the dungeons. He fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it, groaning when he saw it was half past four. He rolled over and tried to get back to sleep but it was very difficult; now that he awake, it was almost impossible to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the gale against the castle walls and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. He stared up at the ceiling, running through all his Quidditch drills.

< What is wrong with you? > came Hermione’s bleary voice. < Do you know what time it is? >

< Sorry, Mi Mi, > Harry said. < I didn’t mean to wake you. >

< Stupid telepathic bond, > she grumbled.

They went down to breakfast very early, Hermione forcing porridge into her brother while making herself toast. The rest of the team turned up before long, looking equally as bleary-eyed.

“It’s going to be a tough one,” Flint said, chewing with an open mouth, “but we’re tough. We don’t mind a bit of rain.”

It was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. He left Hermione with Pansy and Daphne and went with the rest of the team to the stadium.

The team changed into their green robes as the wind threatened to collapse the change room. The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the pitch. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn’t hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering down. < How the fuck am I meant to find the Snitch in this? > he said, looking up at the dark sky.

< I have no idea, Me Me, but I’ll be looking with you. In the meantime, try _Impervius_ on your face. It should keep the rain off, make it vaguely easier to see, > his sisters voice came clearly over the bond, easing his worry slightly. She sent a rush of emotion over to him. < Even when you can’t see me, I’m always in here with you. >

The Slytherin team jumped slightly as Harry pulled out his wand but he simply cast the spell on all of their faces quietly, marvelling as it did indeed keep the rain off their faces. “Your sister, I assume?” Flint said, grinning broadly as Harry nodded. “She really is the brightest in your year.”

The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the pitch, wearing canary-yellow robes. The captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Flint while Flint glared back. Harry saw Madam Hooch’s mouth form the words, “Mount your brooms.” He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant – they were off.

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain. Within five minutes, he was soaked to his skin, frozen, and utterly miserable. He couldn’t hear the commentary over the wind, and the only reason he knew what was happening with the match was because Hermione was keeping him updated as they searched for the Snitch.

The first flash of lightning came, nearly unseating him. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. Twice he nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a team-mate or opponent. < This is fucking madness, Mi, > he yelled, urging his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Diggory, who was zigzagging around the stadium. 

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. The match was getting more and more dangerous. He turned, intending to head back towards the middle of the pitch, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely: the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats. He couldn’t help himself and screamed, before shoving what he’d seen directly into Hermione’s head.

To Pansy and Daphne’s surprise, Hermione jumped up suddenly and sprinted away, dashing up the stadium stairs towards the top, slipping slightly on the wet floor as she went. They looked at each other before quickly following after her.

Meanwhile, Harry’s numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden fringe out of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.

“Harry,” came Draco’s voice past him. “Behind you!”

Harry looked wildly around, both distracted by the dog and by his sister, and saw Cedric Diggory pelting up the pitch, a tiny speck of gold shimmering in the rain-filled air between them. With a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broom handle and zoomed towards the Snitch. “Come on,” he growled at his broom, as the rai whipped into his face so hard that it stung. “ **Faster**!”

< Me Me, > came his sisters voice, panicking over the bond. He tried to reply, but something odd was happening, as he flew faster towards Diggory. An eerie silence had fallen across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf – what was going on?

He reached out to his sister, but the bond was dimming between them, as a sudden cold swept over Harry. He distantly felt the same cold sweep over his sister, and he became aware of something moving towards him. Before he had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the Snitch and looked to the side, to see at least a hundred Dementors flying towards him. It was as though freezing water was rising in his chest, cutting at his insides.

He desperately tried to claw down the bond to reach his sister, forgetting the Snitch entirely, but everything was overtaken by the scream. The same scream again. Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head … a woman. 

As Harry fell off his broom, Daphne screamed loudly as Hermione collapsed at the same time, Pansy grabbing her to stop her head from hitting the ground.

Harry and Hermione were both dragged downwards as the woman screamed. A numbing, swirling mist swept through the bond, filling their mind, only one thought piercing through. She was going to be murdered.

_“Not Harry, not Hermione, please not my babies!”_

_“Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside, now …”_

_“Not my children, please no, take me, kill me instead –“_

_“Not Harry! Please … have mercy! Not Hermione! I’m begging you! Have mercy … have mercy!”_

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was still screaming, and Harry and Hermione knew no more.

-/-

Harry could hear voices whispering around him but couldn’t make out any words. He didn’t have a clue where he was, or how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten. He fumbled in his mind for the bond, relaxing slightly when he found it, and followed it down, nudging his sister, who mumbled something back at him.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” came a voice.

Scariest … the scariest thing … hooded black figures … cold … screaming …

It suddenly came back to them and their eyes snapped open at the same time as they jerked upwards, staring wildly around them. Several people screamed at that. Harry looked around concerned, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw they were just in the Hospital Wing, the Slytherin Quidditch team along with most of the third years gathered around their beds.

“You two need to stop doing the creepy double act,” Pansy said shrilly, still clutching her chest. “You nearly scared me to death.”

“What happened?” he said, looking over at his sister who was also in a hospital bed. < Why are we both in a hospital bed? >

“You fell off,” Flint said. “Must’ve been – what – fifty feet?”

“We thought you’d died,” Daphne said, who was shaking. “And you collapsed at the same time, Hermione. You could have fallen off the top of the stadium.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, the events flashing back to them. The lightning … the Grim … the Snitch … the Dementors. < It was the Grim, > Harry said panicking. < I saw the Grim. It was watching me. >

< I couldn’t find it, > Hermione said. < It was gone by the time I got there. And then the Dementors … >

< Did you hear what I heard? > Harry asked numbly. Hermione nodded silently. He swallowed heavily and looked around at everyone. “What happened with the match?”

“Diggory got the Snitch,” Draco said nervously. “Just after you fell. He didn’t realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call if off. Wanted a re-match.”

“They won fair and square,” Flint said sourly. “It’s not your fault, of course. It’s not right, what happened. You’re still the best Seeker I’ve ever seen. And we can still win the Cup, I’ve got a plan.”

“How did Harry not die?” Hermione said in a high-pitched voice. < You could have died, and I wasn’t there! >

“Dumbledore was furious,” Tracey spoke up. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the pitch as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium straight away … he was furious they’d come into the grounds; I’ve never heard him yell like that …”

“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” Draco said. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were …”

“Hagrid carried you out Hermione,” Daphne said. “Hardly anyone realised what happened to you.”

“When you’re both feeling better, we need to talk about what happened,” Pansy said. “About the fact that you both collapsed at the same time.”

Harry quickly cast around for something to change the subject. “Did someone get my Nimbus?”

Draco’s face fell at that. “Errr … well, when you fell, the storm blew it … blew it into the Whomping Willow. There’s nothing left.”

< I hate this place, > Harry said. 

< It’ll be ok, Me Me. You’ve still got the Nimbus One Thousand, remember, > Hermione said, trying to cheer him up. < You can fly on that in the next Quidditch match. I wonder what will try to murder you next time. So far, we’ve had house-elves, peacock defence professors, and Dementors. Maybe Madam Hooch wants to have a go. >

< You always know just the comforting thing to say, > Harry said. < Don't forget the Grim, maybe it likes watching Quidditch. >


	16. Being Sneaky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threads are starting to come together
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Sound off below, I love all your comments so much :) :)

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping both of them in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend, and they didn’t have the energy to refuse, although Hermione demanded that Draco bring her textbooks so she could do some homework at least. They also had a stream of visitors, all intent on cheering them up.

Neville stuck his head in first, looking very worried, cheering up slightly when Hermione waved him over enthusiastically. “Are you two alright?” he said. “I’ve never been so scared when I saw you fall, Harry. Not even with the Basilisk.”

“We’re ok, Nev,” Harry said. “And really? That Basilisk definitely counts for me as the scariest fucking moment of my life.”

“Really?” Hermione said. “Did you forget the nest of man-eating spiders that tried to kill us? That’s definitely the scariest thing for me.”

“You two need less exciting lives,” Neville said. “My life was very boring before I met you.” Hermione couldn’t help the expression that flashed across her face at that, and Neville hurried to say, “No, that doesn’t mean I regret meeting you. Meeting you two was the best day of my life.”

“We’re sorry we keep getting you in life-threatening situations,” Hermione said sadly.

“Well, I’m quietly hopeful that Voldemort won’t kidnap me this year,” Neville joked.

Ginny and the Weasley twins also visited them, Ginny blushing furiously as she handed over a get-well card with snakes drawn all over it. Hagrid visited next, bringing them some rock cakes that Madam Pomfrey promptly confiscated much to Harry’s relief.

It was the rest of the third year Slytherins visiting them that Harry and Hermione were nervous about. < Are we going to tell them that we saw the fucking Grim again? > Harry said.

< Never mind that, what excuse are we going to give for us collapsing at the same time? > Hermione said.

< That’s easier to explain, > Harry argued. < First all, we’ve already passed out near a Dementor so there’s a precedent. It’ll be easy to say that they affect us the exact same way because we’re twins. >

< We need to talk about what we heard, > Hermione said heavily. < Not necessarily to the group, but **we** need to talk about it. >

< Sure, let’s talk about hearing our dead mother’s voice as she pleads for us not to be murdered, > Harry said. < What is there to say? We know what happened, she was murdered and for whatever reason, we weren’t. >

< Why are you being a dick? > Hermione said. < That’s my job. >

< I’m sorry, Mi, > Harry said, scrubbing his face with his hands. < But there’s nothing we can do. I can’t even say it’s nice to hear her voice. Those are the last moments of her life and he laughed as he murdered her. >

< It’s proof she loved us, > Hermione said quietly. < She loved us, tried to protect us, died for us. >

< It doesn’t make any sense, > Harry said. < He told her to stand aside. Why? >

< You’re right, > Hermione said, rewinding the words in her head and mulling them over. < Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside now. Why would he say that? Why wouldn’t he just kill her? >

< I've been mulling it over and over but we need to know more, and unfortunately, I know just how to do that, > Harry said.

-/-

They hurried to Defence the next day, glad to be out of the hospital wing, arguing back and forth about how to go about getting what they wanted.

< Oh fuck, > Harry said, as they approached the classroom. < What if it’s still Snape? >

Hermione peered around the classroom door and breathed a sigh of relief. < It’s alright. Thank the gods too, because I did not finish that werewolf essay. >

Professor Lupin was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats. “Now, I understand from the other classes that Professor Snape assigned you an essay on werewolves. Obviously, we’re not up to them yet, so you needn’t do the essay.”

They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a Hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who seemed as though he was made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless looking. “Lures travellers into bogs,” Professor Lupin said, as they took notes. “You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead – people follow the light – then –“ The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.

When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, but Harry and Hermione dawdled, still arguing about the best opening line, when –

“Wait a moment, Harry, Hermione,” Lupin called. “I’d like a word.”

< Honestly, half my schemes are wasted, > Hermione said as they headed towards Lupin’s desk, watching as he covered the Hinkypunk’s box with a cloth. < Now, remember our objectives? >

< Yes, General, > Harry snarked.

“I heard about the match,” said Lupin, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, “and I’m sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?”

“No,” Harry said, “the tree smashed it to bits.”

Lupin sighed. “They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”

“Did you hear about the Dementors, too?” Harry asked, keeping a neutral look on his face.

Lupin looked at him quickly. “Yes, I did. I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time … furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds … I suppose they were the reason you fell?”

“Yes,” Harry said, looking around hesitatingly. < Keep your mouth shut, this is going just the way I want it. > He allowed the question to burst forward. “Why? Why do they affect us like that? Are we just … am I just …?”

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” Professor Lupin said sharply. “The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have.” A ray of wintry sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin’s grey hairs and the lines on his young face. “Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk the earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they cannot see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself – soulless and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that has happened to you two is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You two have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

“When they get near us –“ Harry shifted slightly, staring at Lupin’s desk, so that Hermione could get a better view, “We can hear Voldemort murdering our Mum.”

Hermione watched as Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though he made to grip Harry’s shoulder, but thought better of it. “Why did they have to come to the match?” she asked, still watching Lupin’s movements.

“They’re getting hungry,” Lupin said, shutting his briefcase with a snap. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up … I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch pitch. All that excitement … emotions running high … it was their idea of a feast.”

“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry said.

Lupin nodded grimly. “The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t really need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they’re all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

“But Sirius Black escaped from them,” Harry said clearly. “He got away …”

Lupin’s briefcase slipped from the desk, making a loud thunk as it hit the floor, and he stooped quickly to grab it.

< I bet he was in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, > Hermione muttered. < He may as well have just shouted that he knows Sirius Black with that reaction. >

“Yes,” he said, straightening up slowly. “Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn’t have believed it possible … Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long …”

“But you made that Dementor on the train back off,” Harry said.

“There are certain defences one can use,” Lupin said. “But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.”

“What defences?” Harry said at once. “Can you teach us?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors – quite the contrary –“

“But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, we need to be able to fight them!” Harry said.

“Please, Professor Lupin,” Hermione pleaded, opening her eyes up wide and looking up at him, hiding a smile at the emotion clearly visible on his face when he looked into her eyes.

“Well … all right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

Harry and Hermione high-fived over the bond as they left the classroom. < Mission accomplished, General, > Harry said. < He definitely knows Black and hopefully when he teaches us how to fight Dementors, we can hear more about what happened to our mother. >

< Oh hooray, > Hermione said. < Can’t wait to expose ourselves to Dementors and feel terrible. >

< Oh shush, it’s no worse than some of your plans, > Harry jibed.

-/-

They went back to the Common Room to find the rest of their group settled around the fire, clearly waiting for them. < What did we agree on again? > Harry said.

< Dementors affect us the same because we’re twins and we saw the Grim, nothing else, > Hermione replied as they settled down into the circle. < Actually, mentioning we hear our dead mother scream will definitely make people uncomfortable and not want to ask as many questions … but don’t mention anything she says. >

“How are you two feeling?” Millicent asked, passing around some Honeydukes sweets.

“A lot better,” Harry said, smiling back at her. “Less like someone beat the shit out of me anyway.”

“You two passed out at the same time,” Pansy said shrewdly.

“Dementors are nightmare creatures,” Harry began, looking off into the distance, pretending to be overcome by memories. “They drain away all happiness until all that’s left is your worst memory on repeat. They affect us the same because we’re twins and share the same experiences. When they’re near us, we hear our mother screaming as Voldemort murders her. We asked the Defence Professor about it, and he said it’s not uncommon for people who’ve had things like that to be so affected by the Dementors, but I guess it’s still pretty horrible that now the only memory we have of her voice is the sound she made as she was murdered.”

Hermione was, as usual, right and everyone suddenly looked very uncomfortable and looked away, not wanting to ask any further questions. She seized upon the moment before Pansy could remember anything further about the day and steered them towards the safer topic of everyone’s plans for Christmas.

-/-

With the promise of Dementor lessons from Lupin, their growing friendships with their fellow Slytherins, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match, Harry and Hermione’s mood took a definite upturn coming into December. Lots of Hermione’s plans were coming into fruition and Slytherin weren’t out of the running for the Quidditch Cup. Flint continued to work the team hard, and thankfully, Harry saw no hint of a Dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore’s anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

Two weeks before the end of term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. Harry and Hermione were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas as usual, although to their displeasure, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of term.

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry and Hermione bid goodbye to the rest of their group, before heading towards the library. They were halfway along the third-floor corridor when they heard their names being whispered and turned to see Fred and George peering out at them from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

“What are you two doing?” Harry said curiously. “How come you’re not going to Hogsmeade?”

“We heard from our favourite sister, Ginny, that Snape wouldn’t let you two go to Hogsmeade, and we realised we finally had the opportunity to repay you two for saving her life last year, as well as giving you a bit of festive cheer,” Fred said with a mysterious wink. “Come with us.” He led them into an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming to look at Harry and Hermione.

Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Hermione, well aware of their pranks, stared at them with one eyebrow raised. “And this is?” she said.

“This is the secret to our success,” George said, patting the parchment fondly.

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you, especially giving it to Slytherins,” Fred said, “but we decided that your need is greater than ours.”

“Anyway, we know it off by heart,” George said. “We bequeath it to you. We don’t really need it anymore.”

“But you have to promise to keep it a secret,” Fred said. “Twin secret stuff only.”

“Are you two going to spill the beans on what it is, or just keep being dramatic and mysterious?” Hermione said laughing.

“Well,” George said, “when we were in our first year – young, carefree, and innocent –“

Harry loudly snorted. They were as innocent as Hermione was.

“- well, more innocent than we are now – we got into a spot of bother with Filch.”

“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason –“

“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual –“

“- detention –“

“- disembowelment –“

“- and we couldn’t help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at that.

“Exactly,” Fred said, his eyes equally mischievous. “No doubt you two would have done something similar. George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open and grabbed – this!”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, you know,” said George. “We don’t reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn’t have confiscated it.”

“And you two figured it out?” Harry said.

“Oh yes,” Fred said, smirking. “This little beauty’s taught us more than all the teachers in this school.”

“That’s more of an indictment on this school,” Hermione laughed.

“That may be true,” George conceded, before taking out his wand and touching it to the parchment and saying, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

At once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they criss-crossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present – THE MARAUDER’S MAP_

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labelled with a name in miniscule writing. Astounded, Harry and Hermione bent over it. A labelled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker’s cat, Mrs Norris, was prowling the second floor, and Peeves the poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as their eyes travelled up and down the familiar corridors, they noticed something else. The map showed a set of passages they’d never entered, and many of them seemed to lead –

“Right into Hogsmeade,” said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. “There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four –“ he pointed them out, “- but we’re sure we’re the only ones who know about these. Don’t bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it’s caved in – completely blocked. And we don’t reckon anyone’s ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow’s planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We’ve used it loads of times. And as you might’ve noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone’s hump.”

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” sighed George, patting the head of the map. “We owe them so much.”

“Noble people, working tirelessly to help a new generation of law-breakers,” said Fred solemnly. “And may we say, that you two are some exceptional law-breakers.”

“Oh, well right back at you,” Hermione said grinning.

“Right,” said George briskly, “don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it –“

“- or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly.

“Just tap it again and say, ‘Mischief Managed!’ And it’ll go blank.”

“See you in Honeydukes,” they said together, winking, and left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.


	17. Hogsmeade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're off to Hogsmeade :)
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Thanks for everyones comments so far, I appreciate y'all so much xxx

< This is incredible, > Hermione breathed, watching all the dots move around. They watched the tiny ink Mrs Norris turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor. < We can track people, see what people are doing, catch them out in lies. >

< Use it to sneak around at night and not get caught, > Harry said. < And we can definitely use it to sneak into Hogsmeade, and this way we don’t even have to pass the Dementors. >

< Come on then, > Hermione said, and they hurried out of the classroom and slipped behind the statue of the one-eyed witch.

Harry studied the map and saw, to his astonishment, that new ink figures had appeared upon it, labelled Harry and Hermione Potter. They were standing exactly where they were standing. He nudged Hermione and they watched carefully. Their little ink figures appeared to be tapping the witch with their wands. Hermione quickly took out her real wand and tapped the statue, but nothing happened. Harry squinted closer and saw that the tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to them. The word inside said _‘Dissendium’._

 _“Dissendium!”_ Hermione whispered, tapping the stone witch again. They watched in amazement as the statue’s hump opened wide enough to fit a person. Harry helped Hermione into it before hoisting himself into the hole headfirst and sliding downwards. They slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide before landing on cold, damp earth. They lit their wands to find themselves in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. Harry tapped the map and muttered, “Mischief managed!”, and handed it to Hermione who stuffed it into her expanded satchel.

They set off down the passage which twisted and turned, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else, holding hands as the floor was uneven and they stumbled at times.

After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. < Fuck me, > Hermione panted. < Next time we can do your hare-brained thing and bring a broom … oh FUCK, I’ve got a broom in this bag. >

< Now you tell us, > Harry said, as they came to the foot of some worn stone steps which rose out of sight.

< You know I keep stuff for emergencies in this bag, > Hermione said, climbing up the stone stairs.

< Well, you are the planner, > Harry replied. < We can fly back anyway, now that we know what it’s like. >

There was a thud as Hermione hit her head on something hard. < Fucking hell, it’s a trapdoor. > she said, massaging the top of her head. < This really does feel like a bizarre Fred and George prank. >

Harry squeezed up beside her and listened, trying to spread his senses upwards. Not hearing anything, he pushed the trapdoor open slowly and peered over the edge. They were in a cellar which was full of wooden crates and boxes. He climbed out of the trapdoor, pulling Hermione out, and quietly put the door back down. It blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was near impossible to tell it was there. They crept slowly towards the wooden staircase that led upstairs. He could now hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door.

He looked at Hermione when suddenly they heard a door open much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs.

“And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they’ve nearly cleaned us out –“ said a woman’s voice.

A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Hermione dragged Harry behind an enormous crate, frantically rifling through her bag, before pulling the Cloak out and throwing it over them both, just as a man entered the room.

As he passed, they crept back out from behind the crate and climbed the stairs. They slipped through the door at the top of the stairs and found themselves behind the counter of Honeydukes.

< Holy wow, > Hermione said, looking around the store. There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizzbees which were levitating sherbet balls; along yet another wall were ‘Special Effects’ sweets: Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell coloured bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps (‘breathe fire for your friends!’), Ice Mice (‘hear your teeth chatter and squeak!), peppermint creams shaped like toads (‘hop realistically in the stomach!’), fragile sugar-spun quills and exploding bonbons.

< Okay, this is incredible, but we can’t stay here behind the counter all day, > Harry said. < I have a feeling we didn’t think this through. >

< Yes, you may be right. We should think about like disguises or something for next time. But we can still have a look around, > Hermione said, and they weaved their way carefully through the crowd and out into the blizzard outside.

< Fucking hell, > Harry said, teeth immediately chattering. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas Card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

Hermione dragged them into the closest place which turned out to be a tiny inn called the Three Broomsticks. It was extremely crowded, noise, warm and smoky. A pretty curvy woman was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar. < Hmm, this isn’t much better for us. There’re so many people, and I don’t see anyone we know, > Hermione said.

< We can admit failure, you know, > Harry said. < Well, I can, anyway. We’ll come back next visit with disguises and what not and have a nice time. >

Before they could backtrack out of the inn however, the door opened again. Harry stifled a gasp as Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick entered, followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. They watched as the group made their way towards one of the private booths at the back of the inn, away from the crowd.

< Fuck fuck fuck, > Harry said. < We forgot that teachers go to the last weekend of term too. We need to leave now. >

< Fuck no, > Hermione replied. < What does Fudge have to say to these three? Like this is an odd group. Last time he saw Hagrid, he sent him off to fucking prison. We’re gonna eavesdrop. > She dragged Harry forward and they crept towards the private booth, following the barmaid as she joined the group.

“So what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?” asked the barmaid.

Fudge looked around as though checking for eavesdroppers, before replying in a quiet voice, “What else, Rosmerta m’dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?”

“I did hear a rumour,” admitted Madam Rosmerta.

“Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?” said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly.

“Do you think Black’s still in the area, Minister?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.

“I’m sure of it,” said Fudge shortly.

“You know that the Dementors have searched my pub twice?” said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. “Scared all my customers away … it’s very bad for business, Minister.”

“Rosmerta, m’dear, I don’t like them any more than you do,” said Fudge uncomfortably. “Necessary precaution … unfortunate, but there you are … I’ve just met some of them. They’re in a fury against Dumbledore – he won’t let them inside the castle grounds.”

“I should think not,” Professor McGonagall said sharply. “How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?”

“Hear, hear!” squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.

“All the same,” demurred Fudge, “they are here to protect you all from something much worse … we all know what Black’s capable of …”

“Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,” said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. “Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought … I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you’d told me then what he was going to become, I’d have said you’d had too much mead.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge gruffly. “The worst he did isn’t widely known.”

< This is boring, > Harry whinged. < We already know all of this. >

< Shut up, > Hermione replied. < It’s always useful to hear it from a different perspective from different people. >

“The worst?” Madam Rosmerta said, her voice alive with curiosity. “Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?”

“I certainly do,” said Fudge.

“I can’t believe that. What could possibly be worse?”

“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” murmured Professor McGonagall. “Do you remember who his best friend was?”

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here – ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

“Precisely,” said Professor McGonagall. “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –“

“I dunno,” chuckled Hagrid. “Fred and George Weasley could give ‘em a run fer their money.”

“You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” chimed in Professor Flitwick. “Inseparable!”

“Of course they were,” said Fudge. “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry and Hermione. I can’t even begin to imagine how that must torment them.”

“Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.

“Worse even than that, m’dear …” Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. “One of Dumbledore’s spies tipped him off that You-Know-Who was after the Potters. Dumbledore advised them to go into hiding, and hid them under the Fidelius Charm, which of course, requires a Secret Keeper.”

“So Black was the Potters’ Secret Keeper?” said Madam Rosmerta.

“Naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself … and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters’ Secret Keeper himself.”

“He suspected Black?” gasped Madam Rosmerta.

“He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,” said Professor McGonagall. “Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.”

“But James Potter insisted on using Black?”

“He did,” said Fudge heavily. “And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed –“

“Black betrayed them?” breathed Madam Rosmerta.

“He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who. As we all know though, You-Know-Who met his downfall which left Black in a very nasty position, his true colours as a traitor shown.”

“Filthy, stinkin’ turncoat!” Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

“Shh!” said Professor McGonagall.

“I met him!” Hagrid growled, and Harry and Hermione widened their eyes and leant in closer. “I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry and Hermione from Lily an’ James’s house after they was killed! Jus’ got them outta the ruins, poor little things, with a great slash across their foreheads … an’ Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin’ motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin’ there. I didn’ know he’d bin Lily an’ James’s Secret Keeper. Thought he’d jus’ heard the news o’ You-Know-Who’s attack an’ come ter see what he could do. White an’ shakin’, he was. An’ yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!” Hagrid roared.

“Hagrid, please!” said Professor McGonagall. “Keep your voice down!”

“How was I ter know he wasn’ upset abou’ Lily an’ James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou’! An’ then he says, 'Give them ter me, Hagrid, I’m their godfather, I’ll look after them –' Ha! But I’d had me orders from Dumbledore, an’ I told Black no, Dumbledore said they was ter go ter their aunt an’ uncle’s. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get them outta there safely. ‘I won’ need it anymore,’ he says. I shoulda known there was somethin’ fishy goin’ on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin’ it ter me for? Why wouldn’ he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he’d bin the Potters’ Secret Keeper. Black knew he was goin’ ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o’ hours before the Ministry was after him. BUT WHAT IF I’D GIVEN THEM TO HIM, EH? I bet he’d’ve pitched them off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes’ friend’s kids! But when a wizard goes over ter the dark side, there’s nothin’ and no-one that matters to ‘em any more …”

A long silence followed Hagrid’s story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, “But he didn’t manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!”

“Alas, if only we had,” said Fudge bitterly. “It was little Peter Pettigrew – another of the Potters’ friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Secret Keeper, he went after Black himself.”

“Pettigrew … the fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?” asked Madam Rosmerta.

“Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now …” She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

“There, now, Minerva,” Fudge said kindly. “Pettigrew died a hero’s death. Eye-witnesses – Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later – told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. Well, Black blew Pettigrew to smithereens …”

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, “Stupid boy … foolish boy … he was always hopeless at duelling … should have left it to the Ministry …”

“I tell yeh, if I’d got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn’t’ve messed around with wands – I’d’ve ripped him limb from limb,” Hagrid growled.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hagrid,” said Fudge sharply. “Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I – I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him … a heap of blood-stained robes and a … well, a finger … that’s all that was left …“

Fudge’s voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.

“Well, there you have it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge thickly. “Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black’s been in Azkaban ever since.”

“Is it true he’s mad, Minister?” Madam Rosmerta said.

“I wish I could say that he was,” said Fudge slowly. “I certainly believe his master’s defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man – cruel … pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark, there’s no sense in them … but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You’d have thought he was merely bored – asked if I’d finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him – and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door, day and night.”

“But what do you think he’s broken out to do?” said Madam Rosmerta. “Good gracious, Minister, he isn’t trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?”

“I daresay that is his – er – eventual plan,” said Fudge evasively. “But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing … but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he’ll rise again …”

“You know, Cornelius, if you’re dining with the Headmaster, we’d better head back up to the castle,” said Professor McGonagall.

Harry and Hermione hurried backwards as everyone got up and headed towards the door, quietly following after them.

< Well, we learnt a few more things, > Hermione said.

< We need to go, > Harry said. < We can discuss it later, but all those teachers are going back to the castle which is where we’re meant to be. >

They retraced their steps back to the Honeydukes cellar, this time flying slowly along the twisty passage, so that they were back in the castle in ten minutes.

They wandered back along the third corridor, heading towards the dungeons. Harry could feel Hermione’s mind racing a million miles an hour, but she didn’t say anything until they were reached the Common Room and went down into the trunk. There, she searched through the bookcase they had, quickly finding what she was looking for – the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given them in first year which was full of wizard pictures of their mother and father.

They settled down on the floor next to each other, Kid and Ty coiled up near them and Beau in Hermione’s hair. Hedwig was up in the Owlery and Crookshanks was off exploring the castle somewhere. Hermione turned through the pages, stopping on a picture of their parents’ wedding. < Something’s not adding up in my mind, > she said, her finger tracing the wedding photo. Their mother and father looked resplendent, and there next to them was the best man … Sirius Black. They looked at him. If they hadn’t known it was the same person, they never would have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn’t sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter.

< What are you thinking, Mi? > Harry said.

< Just the combination of what everyone said. That no-one thought he would turn Dark. That they were brothers, inseparable. Best man at the wedding. Godfather to us. That our father thought this man would rather die than betray us. And then he turns up with his motorbike and asks for us, says he’ll look after us. Gives Hagrid his motorbike so we could get out of there safely. If he was so evil, so Dark … why wouldn’t he take us off Hagrid? Fudge said that only trained law enforcement could take him on, that he was taken away by twenty armed men. He could have easily gotten us away from Hagrid, could have killed us, like he apparently wanted us to do. >

< He was still found laughing in a crater full of dead bodies, Mi, > Harry said. < He was found guilty. >

< Well, then why has he waited until now to break out? If he could get out, why not earlier? He could have easily killed us when we were young kids at the Dursleys. We weren’t protected by any wards there, were we, > Hermione argued.

< I don’t know, > Harry said. < There’s a lot about this that doesn’t make sense. >

< I wonder what his trial said, > Hermione mused. < Reckon we could get access to it? >

< There’s no way anyone is going to give us access, > Harry said. < No-one even wants us to know about Black, they all think we’ll go mad and go after him or something. >

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. < Despite what Snape thinks, we do actually have quite a strong survival instinct … > She trailed off and stared down at the picture again sadly. < How can he have betrayed them? Inseparable, as close as brothers? Did he really deceive them so well for so long? >

< I just don’t think we’re going to know, > Harry said, putting his arm around her. < It’s not like we can ask him or anyone else involved. >


	18. Ho Ho Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas y'all 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

They spent the night in the trunk and awoke to find the dormitory deserted, the Common Room similarly so, everyone having gone home for Christmas. They slumped into chairs around the fire. The Black Lake was churning out in the window and Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.

< Should we be more upset? > Hermione asked, settling down on the floor instead to pat Crookshanks.

< About what? > Harry said, resting back in the chair and closing his eyes.

< About Sirius Black betraying our parents. He’s the reason that Voldemort found them and killed them, > Hermione said. < Everyone certainly seems to think we should be. >

< Look, if he was in front of me right now with no wand, I’d probably attack him, > Harry said. < He did one of the most awful things and betrayed his so-called brother … but he’s not here in front of us, and I’m not stupid enough to seek him out. >

< He’s hunting you though, > Hermione said. < He’s already made his way into the castle once … there’s nothing to say he won’t do it again. >

< He’s hunting both of us, thanks very much, > Harry replied. < And just because he’s hunting us doesn’t mean we have to hunt him. We gain nothing by doing that. Some showdown isn’t going to bring our parents back. >

< Shouldn’t we get vengeance though? > Hermione said, looking up at him.

< Where is this coming from, Mi Mi? > Harry said, sliding off the chair and sitting closer to her.

< It feels like we’re not doing right by our parents by just … being fine with him betraying them, > she said.

< But we’re not fine, > Harry said. < It’s fucked up, but the deepest circle of hell is reserved for the betrayers. He’ll get caught, he’ll go back to rotting in prison, unable to escape, and when he finally dies, if there’s any true justice in this world, his soul will **never** know peace! But if we go after him … what if he kills one of us? That doesn’t do right by anyone in our family. Would you leave me here to wander the earth alone without you? >

< No, Me Me, > Hermione said quietly. < I will never leave you … you’re right, as usual. >

< I love you, Mi heart, > Harry said. < We’ll get revenge in the end, on everyone, I promise. But we have to survive school and learn everything we need to first, otherwise we’ll be adrift out in the world. >

The fire crackled and Crookshanks stretched luxuriously, flexing his claws. Harry looked around the empty Common Room and then back at his brooding sister. < Come on, let’s get out of here. Go visit Hagrid or something. No point being broody in here all day. Or we can go to the library and finish off our homework. >

Hermione perked up at that. < Yes to both, > she said, smiling. < Let’s go get our cloaks. >

So they got their cloaks from the trunk and set off through the portrait hole and down through the empty castle. They were nearly at the oak front doors when they came across Ginny, who was walking alone through the corridor. She smiled hesitantly at them as they approached each other.

“How are you, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“Umm … I’m good,” she replied. “How are you two? Staying here for the holidays?”

“Yeah, we always do,” Harry said. “We’re going down to visit Hagrid if you want to come.”

With that, they made their way out the front door silently and slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid’s cabin looked like an iced cake. Harry knocked loudly but there was no answer.

“Is he out?” Ginny asked, shivering under her cloak.

Harry leant forward and put his ear to the door. < What the hell am I hearing? > he said, nudging Hermione over the bond, who leant forward and listened. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans. Hermione looked at him, concern all over her face, before furiously thumping the door.

“Hagrid!” she yelled. “Hagrid, open the door!”

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen; tears splashing down the front of his leather waistcoat.

< Oh no, > Hermione said, shuffling backwards. < You’re up, I don’t do tears. >

“Yeh’ve heard!” Hagrid bellowed, and he flung himself onto Harry’s neck.

Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. < Help, > Harry shot, about to collapse under Hagrid’s weight. Hermione and Ginny grabbed an arm each and heaved Hagrid back into the cabin, Harry pushing against his barrel chest. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears which dripped down into his tangled beard.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged nervous glances and Harry almost sighed, wondering why he’d gotten all the emotional intelligence in the room. “What’s wrong Hagrid?” he asked kindly, before spotting an official-looking letter lying open on the table. “What’s this? Is this the problem?”

Hagrid’s sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter towards Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:

_Dear Mr Hagrid,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident. However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20 th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated. _

_Yours in fellowship …_

There followed a list of the school governors. There was silence as Harry finished reading out the letter, the three making furtive eye contact between each other, trying to convince someone else to speak first. Harry eventually lost and started patting Hagrid on the shoulder, saying “Well, I’m sure that Buckbeak will get off –“

“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures!” choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures!”

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid’s cabin made Harry, Hermione, and Ginny whip around. Said Hippogriff, Buckbeak, was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” choked Hagrid. “All on his own! At Christmas!”

< Buckbeak celebrates Christmas, Me, > Hermione said. < Did you know that Hippogriffs are into Christmas? That certainly wasn’t in our textbook. >

< You’re not helping, > Harry said, glancing at her. They had never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he called ‘interesting creatures’ and other people called ‘terrifying monsters’. < By Hagrid’s fucking standards, the Hippogriff is basically a cute pet. >

“You’ll just have to make a strong defence, Hagrid,” Ginny piped up, tentatively also patting him on the shoulder.

“Won’ make no diff’rence!” sobbed Hagrid. “Them Disposal devils … they love findin’ creatures guilty. An’ if I lose the case, Buckbeak –“ Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forwards, his face in his arms.

“What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?” tried Harry.

“He’s done more’n enough fer me already,” groaned Hagrid. “Got enough on his plate what with keepin’ them Dementors outta the castle, an’ Sirius Black lurkin’ around –“

“Okay, Hagrid,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry’s frantic requests to not open her mouth. “Crying isn’t going to change anything. We’ll do some research and see if we can find anything and, in the meantime, you need to keep doing a good job, if not an even better job, of being the Creatures teacher.”

Hagrid looked up at that, missing Harry and Ginny’s exasperated looks, and stared hopefully at Hermione. He blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and straightened up. “Yer right, Hermione. I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together …”

Hermione sent Harry a very smug feeling. < It’s called tough love, baby. >

Fang the boarhound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid’s knee. “I’ve not bin meself lately,” said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. “Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes –“

“People do like your classes, Hagrid,” Harry immediately lied.

“Yeah, but enough of the Flobberworms. They’re boring. Show us something more interesting please,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry’s incredulous look.

“They’re dead anyway,” Hagrid said gloomily. “Too much lettuce.”

“Well, no great loss,” Hermione said.

“An’ them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all,” said Hagrid, with a sudden shudder. “Gotta walk past ‘em ev’ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ‘S like bein’ back in Azkaban –“

“What’s it like in Azkaban?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Yeh’ve no idea,” said Hagrid quietly. “Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad. Kep’ goin’ over horrible stuff in me mind … the day I got expelled from Hogwarts … day me dad died … day I had ter let Norbert go …”

< Whoops, > Harry said awkwardly. < Glad he doesn’t know it was us who dobbed in about Norbert. >

“Yeh can’ really remember who yeh are after a while. An’ yeh can’ see the point o’ livin’ at all. I used ter hope I’d jus’ die in me sleep … when they let me out, it was like bein’ born again, ev’rythin’ came floodin’ back, it was the bes’ feelin’ in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren’t keen on lettin’ me go.”

“But you were innocent!” Ginny protested.

Hagrid snorted. “Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they’ve got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ‘em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ‘em, they don’ give a damn who’s guilty an’ who’s not.”

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance. Then he said quietly, “Thought o’ jus’ lettin’ Buckbeak go … tryin’ ter make him fly away … but how d’yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’? An’ – an’ I’m scared o’ breakin’ the law …” He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”

-/-

< Well, that was a cheery fucking visit, > Hermione said, as they made their way back through the snow up to the castle.

< Oh, yes. I especially loved the ‘be a better teacher’ bit you did, > Harry said. < Very supportive. >

< Well it fucking worked, didn’t it? > Hermione snapped back. < A pity party ain’t never helped anyone. >

Harry rolled his eyes. “Would you like to come to the library with us?” he asked Ginny. “We’ll see if we can find anything on Hippogriffs for Hagrid.”

Ginny nodded so they all trooped off to the library in search of books to help Hagrid win his case against the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The three of them sat around a table, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant.

“Here’s something … there was a case in 1722 … but the Hippogriff was convicted – urgh, look what they did to it, that’s disgusting –“

“This might help, look – a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off – oh – no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it …”

A few hours later, Harry tossed the book he was currently perusing aside and stretched his arms out, yawning. “Fucking hell, these books are dense,” he said. “Are you enjoying second year now, Ginny?”

Ginny startled up from the book she was reading, brown eyes wide. “Well … I’ve mostly caught up, which is nice … o-obviously, I didn’t learn a lot last year.”

“You must be a swot like my sister to have caught up so quickly,” Harry said, kicking Hermione who scowled at him half-heartedly. “Are the other guys in your dorm nice?”

Ginny looked even more stressed at that question.

< Why are you torturing her like a bad relative at a barbecue? > Hermione said.

< We’ve never even been to a barbecue, > Harry shot back.

“They all m-made friends with each other last year,” Ginny said, looking sad. “So, I’m not really friends with them … but that’s ok. Neville is nice to me, and Luna is my friend.”

“Well, we’re your friends too,” Harry said firmly.

Ginny smiled shyly, fiddling with the pages of the book in front of her. “Thanks,” she said. “Do you guys have a big ginger cat?”

Hermione blinked at the non-sequitur. “Yeah, Crookshanks. That’s my cat, why?”

“It was up in our dormitory the other day,” she said, a spark of mischief entering her eyes, making her look more like her older twin brothers. “Ron’s convinced you’ve gotten it to spy on him.”

Hermione snorted loudly. “No offence, but if I was going to spy, I’d spy on someone interesting.”

Ginny giggled at that, and they continued chatting through the afternoon.

Meanwhile, in the rest of the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armour and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars. A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve had grown so strong that it even made its way into the dungeons.

-/-

Harry was woken on Christmas morning by Hermione hitting him with a pillow repeatedly. < Presents, Me Me, > she shouted gleefully. Harry squinted towards the foot of the mattress, spotting a small heap of parcels illuminated by the fire.

Hermione gasped loudly as she unwrapped the first present. < Oh my gods, > she said, staring down in wonder at the book in front of her.

< What? > Harry said blearily, rolling over and sitting up.

< This book. It’s an ancient book on Charms! It’s really really rare, > Hermione exclaimed, running her fingers across the cover reverently. < This is incredible! > She carefully set it aside and reached for the other presents, happily making her way through several other books and new cloaks with Harry until the only thing left was a long, thin package. Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped loudly as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto the floor. Hermione dropped her book and stared at the broomstick in shock.

It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had seen in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating, and let go; it hung in mid-air, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in shock. < Someone sent us a fucking Firebolt? > they said at the same time.

< Is there a card? > Hermione whispered, still staring at the broom. Harry rifled through all the paper scattered around them but found nothing.

< Hang on, > Harry said, eyes darting around the room. < So you got a really rare Charms book and I’ve got a top-of-the-line broom and there’s no card or note or anything? Does that seem right to you? >

< No, it doesn’t, > Hermione muttered, casting a mournful look at her Charms book. < But I know what you’re thinking, and **how** can he have sent us something? Why would he send us something? That literally makes no fucking sense. He’s supposed to be in hiding! >

< Then who sent us these insanely expensive presents? > Harry said. < The Dursleys? Snape? All the other incredible adults in our lives? >

< Uggghhhhhhhh, > Hermione groaned loudly. < This means we’re going to have to tell Snape though. That should be a fun conversation. ‘Hello Snape, someone sent us super expensive presents, ha ha ha, Merry Christmas!’ >

< Well, you can use those exact words, > Harry said.

-/-

They waited until a vaguely more sociable hour before knocking on Snape’s door, Hermione furiously scowling at everything around her. < I wanna read my book, > she whined. < Maybe he’s just trying to be a good godfather. >

< Mmm, nothing says good godfather like twelve years in prison for murder, > Harry said. < I’ll buy you whatever book you want in the Summer holidays … if I can buy myself a Firebolt. >

The door opened and Snape looked down at them disdainfully. “What on earth do you two want?” he said.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” Hermione said, smiling sweetly up at him.

< Not now, > Harry said, elbowing her aside. < You can torment him later. > “We’re terribly sorry to disturb you, sir, but we’re a little bit concerned about two of our presents.”

“Surprised that someone sent you one?” Snape snarked back.

Harry quickly yanked on the bond before Hermione could start another argument with the Potions Master. “Someone – we don’t know who because they didn’t leave a note – sent us a very rare and expensive Charms book and a brand new Firebolt broomstick.”

Snape’s eyes briefly widened at that, his lips narrowing. “Show me,” he commanded.

Back in the Common Room, he stared down at the two items in consternation. “Maybe you two do have some small survival instinct,” he said. “I’ll have to take them. Check for jinxes and the like. Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will also have to take a look.”

“And if they’re jinx-free?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Snape ignored her and left the Common Room, the two items floating beside him.

-/-

At lunchtime, they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the house tables had bene moved against the walls again, and that a single table, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather mouldy-looking tail coat. The only other students were the four Weasleys, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny.

“Merry Christmas!” said Dumbledore, as Harry and Hermione approached the table. “As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the house tables … sit down, sit down!”

Harry and Hermione sat down next to each other at the end of the table, furiously bitching to each other over the bond about their dinner guests.

“Crackers!” Dumbledore said enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch’s hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Hermione, remembering Neville’s Boggart story, loudly laughed before shutting up as Snape glared furiously at her, his mouth thinning. He pushed the hat towards Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard’s hat at once.

< Nice one, > Harry said. < That will really convince him to give back the Firebolt. >

< If I can’t laugh at Snape on Christmas day then what is the point of this holiday? > Hermione replied, helping herself to roast potatoes.

As Harry reached for the roast turkey, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding towards them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honour of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversize dragonfly.

“Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!” Dumbledore said, standing up.

< Pleasant is not the word I’d use, > Harry muttered.

“I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster,” said Professor Trelawney, in her mistiest, most far-away voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair –“

And he did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”

< Fuck off then, > Hermione said, shovelling food into her mouth faster.

“We’ll risk it, Sybill,” said Professor McGonagall impatiently. “Do sit down, the turkey’s getting stone cold.”

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

“Tripe, Sybill?” she offered. Hermione covered a snort.

< This is another one of those weird parties we always seem to find ourselves at, > she muttered to Harry.

Professor Trelawney ignored McGonagall. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, “But where is dear Professor Lupin?”

“I’m afraid the poor fellow is ill again,” said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves, politely not noticing that Harry and Hermione were already a third of the way through. “Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day.”

“But surely you already knew that, Sybill?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look. “Certainly I knew, Minerva,” she said quietly. “But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.”

“That explains a great deal,” Professor McGonagall said tartly.

Harry and Hermione made eyes at the Weasley twins, each of them silently laughing at McGonagall’s verbal sparring.

Professor Trelawney’s voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. “If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him –“

“Imagine that,” said Professor McGonagall drily.

At this stage, Hermione was making sure her mouth was full if only to stop herself from laughing out loud again.

“I doubt,” said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney’s conversation, “that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you’ve made the Potion for him again?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” said Snape sourly. Hermione narrowed her eyes, the bond twanging suddenly. Harry glanced at her, sending a question mark at her. She shrugged back at him, letting whatever it was process in the back of her mind.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Harry and Hermione got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.

“My dears! Which of you left their seat first? Which?” she said, looking frantically between the pair.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry who uneasily shrugged at the Divination Professor.

“I doubt it will make much difference,” said Professor McGonagall primly, “unless a mad axeman is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall.”

Everyone laughed at that and Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted. Harry and Hermione snuck away, eager to get away from the odd crowd.

< Fuck, she's an old bat, > Hermione said griped. < Thank the gods she normally stays up in her tower. >


	19. By The Sun and The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione start their Dementor lessons.  
> Am super interested to know what y'all think of this chapter. Feel free to sound off below :) 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

Harry was abruptly dragged from sleep by his sister shouting loudly in his head. He blinked around the dim Common Room. < What? > he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He cast a quick Tempus charm and stared at Hermione in horror. < It’s fucking 3am! There better be a fucking murderer in here for you to wake me at 3am! >

< Don’t be so dramatic, > Hermione said. < We need to go to the library. >

Harry slumped backwards. < Not at 3am, we don’t, > he said. < Whatever harebrained thing you’ve thought of can bloody wait til the sun rises. >

< Not the sun, Me, > she said. < The moon! >

< What?! > he said exasperatedly.

< Remember what I said after that lesson. Everyone has an agenda, > Hermione said, staring off into the distance.

Harry stared up at the ceiling, mourning for his lost sleep. < I deadass have no idea what you’re talking about, > he said.

< I think Professor Lupin is a werewolf, > Hermione said.

Harry jerked up at that, staring at her. < Gods, I know I keep saying this, but **what**?! >

< Snape wanted us to figure it out – it’s why he taught about werewolves that day. I thought Lupin getting sick was a once off, but he’s gotten sick once a month so far, and Snape makes a potion for him every time. I bet if we double check the lunar calendar, it’ll line up perfectly, > Hermione said, her eyes lighting up in the way they always did when she solved something.

< So our Defence professor is a werewolf, > Harry said slowly. < I suppose that makes his Boggart make sense. I don’t think that’s worse than being possessed by Voldemort so … you know, plusses and minuses. >

< We’re just missing a few pieces of the puzzle, > Hermione said. < I can feel it. Lupin knows Black … Snape expressed his concerns when Dumbledore appointed him, and he thinks someone is helping Black get into the castle … Lupin is a werewolf … >

< Aren’t werewolves supposed to be Dark creatures? > Harry said. < What if he was working with Black in the last war? >

Hermione scrunched up her face. < But he hasn’t been in prison … and even ignoring that, there’s been plenty of opportunities this year that he could have attacked us, > she said. < You might be right though; Snape seems to think they’re working together. >

< Ugh but since when does Snape know anything? > Harry said, unable to bring himself to agree with anything the Potions master said. < Hang on, ignoring all of the above … we’re supposed to have Dementor lessons with Lupin! >

< Oh fuck, > Hermione said. < We really need those. >

< Gods, why’d you have to figure out Lupin is a werewolf? > Harry said.

< Well excuse me and my fantastic brain, > Hermione snarked. < He hasn’t attacked us yet, and those lessons are important! We need to see if we can hear more from our mother. >

< And see if we can actually learn to repel the Dementors, > Harry said.

< Alright, here’s the plan, > Hermione said, shaking her hair back. < We check the lunar calendar to confirm my theory, we keep a close eye on Lupin … oh my gods, we can use the map! And we still have lessons with him … maybe by getting a bit closer to him we can figure out what he’s up to! >

< Brilliant, > Harry said, slumping back. < What could go wrong? Now, if it’s not too much to ask for, do you think I could go back to sleep now? >

Hermione thumped him with a pillow.

-/-

Although they’d enjoyed the Christmas break, between Snape, Ron, and Lupin, the rest of the holidays had felt tense, and so they were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and the Slytherin Common Room became crowded again.

Lessons started again next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours in the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing, while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs, Hagrid slowly lecturing about the creatures. Hermione had a smug smile on her face the whole way through, pleased with the results of her pep talk, and that the Flobberworms were no more.

They had Defence Against the Dark Arts that afternoon, and both Harry and Hermione agreed that they’d remind Lupin about his promise for Dementor lessons.

“Ah yes,” Lupin said, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class, Hermione nodding behind him. “Let me see … how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough … I’ll have to think carefully about how we’re going to do this … we can’t bring a real Dementor into the castle to practise on …”

-/-

At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Harry and Hermione left their Common Room for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when he arrived, Hermione very helpfully remarking that maybe this was an ambush and Black was about to murder them. Harry lit the lamps with his wand, scowling at her as he did, the lights from the flames revealing an empty classroom. They only had to wait five minutes before Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binns’ desk.

“What’s that?” Harry asked. < Don’t even joke about it! Black is **not** in that case! > Hermione pouted at him sulkily.

“Another Boggart,” Lupin said, stripping off his cloak. “I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be able to practise on him. I can store him in my office when we’re not using him; there’s a cupboard under my desk he’ll like.”

“OK,” Harry said, trying to sound as braver than he felt. < This is a fucking terrible idea, > he muttered.

< What? Torturing ourselves with the memory of our mother dying to see if we can figure out some clues? > Hermione said. < No idea what you mean, sounds like a great idea. >

“So …” Professor Lupin had taken out his own wand and indicated that they should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.”

There was a slightly too long pause as Harry remembered that he was apparently the only twin who could speak. “How does it work?” he blurted.

“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus,” said Lupin, “which is a kind of Anti-Dementor – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor.”

< In Latin, patronus basically means protector or guardian, > Hermione said. < Each Patronus is different … unique to the person casting the charm. Hmm, I wonder if we’ll have the same one as twins. >

< And thanks for tuning in to that episode of Mi Mi’s Fun Facts, > Harry said in a fake jolly tone, wincing slightly at Hermione zapped him over the bond.

“The Patronus is a kind of positive force,” Lupin continued, “a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can’t hurt it. But I must warn you both that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”

“How do you conjure it?”

“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”

< A really happy memory? > Hermione said, aghast. < Do we even have happy memories? >

< Don’t be so fucking grim, > Harry said. < Of course we have happy memories! >

< What are you going to use? > Hermione asked, trying to flick back through her memories. < Ooh, I know. We have a house, yeah! We have a house, yeah! >

< Oh yeah, nice one, > Harry said.

“The incantation is this –“ Lupin cleared his throat, _“expecto patronum!”_

 _“Expecto patronum,”_ they repeated back, _“expecto patronum.”_

“You can go first,” Hermione said, taking a step back. < We can’t both do it, we have to be in the same head, remember? >

“Oh – yeah –“ Harry said, trying to focus on his happy memory. _“Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum … expecto patronum!”_

Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gasp. “Did you see that?” Harry said excitedly, Hermione smiling proudly at him. “Something happened!”

“Very good,” Lupin said, also smiling. “Right then – ready to try it on a Dementor?”

“Yes,” Harry said, with a quick glance at Hermione, gripping his wand very tightly and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. Hermione sunk down the bond and into his mind and waited as Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned towards Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor glided out of the box and swept silently towards Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him, spreading to Hermione.

 _“Expecto patronum!”_ Harry yelled. _“Expecto patronum! Expecto –“_

Hermione tried to push more magic out to help him but the classroom and the Dementor were dissolving … both of them falling again though thick white fog, their mother’s voice louder than ever echoing inside their head –

_'Not Harry! Not Hermione! Please – I’ll do anything –‘_

_‘Stand aside – stand aside, girl –‘_

Harry jerked back to life as Lupin called his name, immediately glancing over to Hermione, who was sitting glassy eyed in a chair. < I’m fine, > she mumbled. < If I’m sitting down, it’s less obvious that I’m passing out with you. > Harry was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again.

“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down his face.

“Are you all right?” Lupin asked.

“Yes …” Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leant against it.

“Here –“ Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. “Eat this before we try again. I didn’t expect you to it first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had.”

Harry mumbled in reply, biting the Frog’s head off, giving the body to Hermione. < Wanna go next? >

< No, > she said, < but I will anyway. > She stood up, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll go next,” she declared.

“All right then,” Lupin said. “Remember to pick a really happy memory … it has to be strong.”

Harry sunk into her mind as Hermione flicked through various memories, trying to fill herself with happy memories, as Lupin gripped the box lid and slowly lifted it.

“Go!” Lupin said, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forwards, drawing its rattly breath; one rotting hand extending towards Hermione –

 _“Expecto patronum!”_ Hermione screamed. _“Expecto patronum! Expecto pat –“_

White fog obscured their senses again … big, blurred shapes were moving around them … then came a new voice, a man’s voice, shouting, panicking –

_‘Lily, take them and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off –‘_

_The sounds of someone stumbling from a room – a door bursting open – a cackle of high-pitched laughter –_

“Hermione! Hermione … wake up …”

Lupin was tapping Hermione on the face. It took a minute for her to understand why she was lying on a dusty classroom floor before it all came rushing back. < That was our dad, > she said, dazed, feeling on the verge of tears for the first time in years and years.

< He tried to take on Voldemort himself, > Harry said hoarsely, doing a very poor impersonation of a living person in a chair, his eyes unfocussed. < Gave our mum time to run for it … >

< There must have been wards up, > Hermione said. < She couldn’t escape. > With a jolt, she realised Lupin was staring at her in a panic and remembered that she hadn’t said anything out loud. “I’m fine!” she said, in an unconvincing voice.

Lupin breathed out heavily. “Perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced … I shouldn’t have suggested putting you through this …”

“No!” Harry protested, forcing himself up off the chair. “Please just let us have one more go each … we’re just not thinking of a happy enough memory.”

< I think I know what to think of, > Hermione said.

< Well, keep it to yourself, > Harry said. < I want to see if there’s anything else to hear. > He got to his feet and faced the packing case once more, settling as Hermione eased into his mind, her presence always a calming force for him.

“Ready?” said Lupin, who looked as though he was doing this against his better judgement. “Concentrating hard? All right – go!”

He pulled up the lid for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark –

 _“Expecto patronum!”_ Harry bellowed, but his heart wasn’t in it. _“Expecto patronum!”_

The screaming inside their head started again and they sunk further into the white mist, allowing darkness to envelop them.

_There was thumping up the stairs - battle sounds echoing below._

_‘Harry, Hermione, you are so loved, so very loved. Mama loves you. Dada loves you. Be safe, my darlings. Be strong.’_

They both flinched in their mind as they felt something wet dropped onto their heads, the memory growing, engulfing them. Their mother’s voice was fading in and out as the undertow of the Dementor ate into them.

_‘… willingly given …’ Her hands brushed against their foreheads, smearing something wet against them. ‘… by the light of the Sun … the Shield … merge in communion … destroy …’_

_There was a loud blast and Lily started screaming. ‘Not Harry, not Hermione, please not my babies!’_

They let go and allowed the blessed darkness to take them.


	20. Discussions and Disputes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments!!! They mean the world and keep me inspired. 
> 
> I have tomorrow off so no doubt shall spend it furiously writing instead of like ... doing my washing. Priorities. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Sound off below !! :)

< She did something, > Harry breathed. < She did something to protect us. > They were back down in the trunk, having wiggled out of Lupin’s panicked pleas for them to go to the hospital wing.

Hermione was frantically writing down everything they’d heard, before the utter exhaustion that was soaked into her bones took her over. Kid peered over her shoulder as she splattered ink everywhere in her haste. < She put something on our foreheads, > Hermione said, staring down at everything she’d written. < It felt wet. >

< I hate to say it, but it was probably blood, > Harry said. < Probably her blood. >

< Yeah, it was probably wasn’t pumpkin juice, > Hermione replied. < Some kind of ritual. I’m not even remotely familiar with ritual magic. It’s not taught here at Hogwarts, and as far as I know, it’s fairly uncommon … even frowned upon really … and blood magic is definitely considered to be Dark. >

< By the light of the Sun, > Harry mused. < What do you think that means? >

< Fuck knows, > Hermione said, tucking her hair behind her ears. < A ritual usually requires some preparation though … usually like an actual ritual circle, which often has runes within it, depending on what you’re trying to achieve. We should check out runes that relate to the sun. >

< I love that you say you’re not familiar with ritual magic, and then proceed to know way more than anyone else would, > Harry said fondly. < We should just read ahead then … we haven’t done the whole symbolism side yet, just the carving and translating. The symbolism bit is supposed to come later when we start to make our own runic magic. >

< I bet it does explain our bond, > Hermione said. < She said ‘merge in communion’. What else could that mean, but that she somehow merged us and created the bond? >

< What if there was a ritual circle? > Harry said quietly. < That would tell us more, wouldn’t it? >

Hermione stared at him in horror. < Visit the house where our parents died? > she whispered. < I just realised that we don’t even know where that is. >

< Hang on, > Harry said. < Yes, we do! Remember what Griphook said? It’s in Godric’s Hollow, but it’s a memorial now. >

Hermione gave him an impressed look. < Calm down, sports star, don’t take my role as brain away from me, > she joked. < We should visit it next holidays. I wish we could do it sooner, but I don’t want anyone to know what we’re looking into. >

< Agreed, > Harry said. < This remains secret twin stuff. >

-/-

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. Ravenclaw played Gryffindor, and in good news for Slytherin, Gryffindor won but only narrowly. This meant that if Slytherin beat Ravenclaw, they’d move into second place and still have a chance for the Cup. It also meant Flint increased their practices, a fact Hermione had grumbled about incessantly, until Harry reminded her that she didn’t actually have to attend practices. This got Harry a swift kick in the leg and a strongly unimpressed look.

Having achieved the first half of their goal with Dementor lessons, they successfully pestered Lupin to continue them, still wanting to be able to drive away Dementors. Unfortunately, despite trying to think of happy memories and drawing on the bond, neither of them could produce anything besides an indistinct, silvery shadow – a fact that drove Hermione completely up the wall as she hated not achieving things.

“You’re both expecting too much of yourselves,” Professor Lupin said sternly, in their fourth week of practice. “You’re thirteen, your magical cores are nowhere near maturity … even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You’re not even passing out anymore.” For which I am incredibly grateful, Lupin thought to himself, remembering his panic when both of them had collapsed.

“I thought a Patronus would – charge the Dementors down or something,” Harry said dispiritedly, talking over whatever his sister’s brain was currently furiously thinking through. “Make them disappear –“

“The true Patronus does do that,” said Lupin. “But you’ve both achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. I’m sure if the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you’ll be able to keep them at bay long enough to get safely to the ground.”

< Magical core, > Hermione said, ignoring the Quidditch talk. < I’ve never thought of it like that … or even really thought about it at all. When does our core reach maturity? >

< I literally have no idea, > Harry said, trying to focus on Lupin who was still talking.

“ … -plete confidence in you,” Lupin said, smiling. Harry smiled back, hoping he hadn’t missed too much. “You’ve earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won’t have tried it before!” He pulled three bottles out of his briefcase and set them down. “Butterbeer!”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said, jabbing Hermione over the bond. < Say thank you! >

“Thanks, Professor,” Hermione mimicked. < I’m sure he’s used to you being the talky one. I’ve got important things to think. > Harry rolled his eyes, handing her the drink. She took it and went back to her thoughts.

They drank the Butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he’d been wondering for a while. “What’s under a Dementor’s hood?”

Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully. “Hmmm … well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon.”

Harry widened his eyes in horror. < Pay attention, > he barked. “What is it?”

“They call it the Dementor’s Kiss,” Lupin said, with a slightly twisted smile. “It’s what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and – and suck out their soul.”

Hermione spat out her Butterbeer. “What?” she exclaimed. “They kill you by sucking out your soul?”

“Oh no,” Lupin said. “Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no … anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever … lost.”

“How can you have no memory?” Hermione argued. “The soul doesn’t store your memory. Part of your brain does that – your hippocampus, if I remember correctly.”

< Hang on, > Harry said. < Remember last year though, you said 'he's a soul, that's how he has memory'. >

Hermione looked at him briefly, her eyes lighting up. < Save that thought for later ... something's dinging in the back of my mind. >

“I don’t know,” Lupin said, shrugging lightly. “I’m sure it’s studied somewhere in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. I suspect it will have something to do with the interplay of our magic, brain, and soul.”

“Can people who’ve had their souls sucked out still do magic?” Hermione asked, mind churning furiously.

“I’m not sure,” Lupin replied, “but I don’t believe so … although whether if that’s in part due to the memory loss more than anything else, but it’s possible that we lose our magic with our souls.”

“What happens if a Dementor kisses a Muggle?”

“Muggles have souls too,” Lupin said. “I must say that neither Muggle nor Wizard survive long without their soul. I don’t fully understand it … I don’t know if anyone does … but we need our souls.”

“Do you need all your soul?” Harry asked, the bond twinging between them.

Lupin frowned at him before looking off into the distance in thought. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But I can’t imagine how you would not have all your soul; I don’t know how you’d split it.”

Harry and Hermione left Lupin, all three of them in deep thought over the conversation, the Butterbeer long forgotten. Hermione kept softly repeating the words ‘souls’ over and over in the bond, as though the word itself would reveal its secrets. < Interplay with magic, brain, and soul, > Hermione muttered, tugging on one of her curls. < There's something but I can't get it to shift into focus to understand. > They were both so deep in thought that they didn’t hear their names being shouted until Ron Weasley was nearly on top of them, his face matching his hair, looking so angry that Harry was surprised steam wasn’t coming out of his ears.

“You two!” Ron yelled, waving something white in front of them.

Hermione looked at him in disgust. “What?” she snapped. < I mean, it’s a tired cliché, but I’d believe that this ginger has no soul. >

“LOOK!” Ron bellowed, once again waving something white. Harry realised it was a bedsheet and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “LOOK AT THE BLOOD!”

“Awww,” Hermione cooed. “Is it that time of the month?” 

Harry marvelled at his sister’s ability to throw fuel on fire before deftly stepping in front of her as Ron threw himself at her. Both boys tumbled to the grounds, furiously wrestling, as Hermione shrieked loudly. Harry had gotten in quite a few solid punches and elbows and Hermione was just about to start kicking when Snape came onto the scene.

Within seconds, all three of them were frozen, Snape holding his wand out. “What,” he uttered furiously, “is the meaning of this?”

“They killed my rat,” Ron snarled, his fury barely quailing under Snape’s glare, which Hermione quietly conceded was vaguely impressive of him, before his words caught up to her.

“What?” they said at the same time. “Why would we kill your rat?”

“Your bloody cat,” he replied. “Look at the blood on the sheets. Scabbers is missing, and I found blood on my sheets along with ginger cat hair.”

Hermione snorted. “There are several ginger cats in this castle, you imbecile. This is just an excuse for you to try and beat us up, the absolute savage that you are.” She sniffed haughtily in her practiced Pureblood way. < And you derailed our thought process, > she said furiously, < and tried to hurt my brother. >

< Tried to hurt me? > Harry said. < He tried to throw himself onto you! Fuck this guy. > “He tried to attack Hermione, sir,” he said. “He threw himself at her without warning. What kind of Gryffindor goes around attacking girls like that?”

“Indeed,” Snape intoned, looking down his nose at Ron. “Detention, Weasley. You can scrub the bedpans this Saturday.”

At that, Snape ushered Harry and Hermione away, both of them high fiving over the bond, before realising they were now alone with an angry Snape.

Snape looked down at them imperiously. “Do you not have wands?” he asked. “Try to be less of a barbarian next time and try a hex like a proper Slytherin. But moving on to more important matters, we have finished investigating the presents you were given at Christmas. I am … pleased is a strong word … I can tell you that neither your book nor your broom are cursed. They have been returned to your dormitories." Snape stared sternly at Harry. "Make sure you win the match, Potter.” At that, he swept away.


	21. Valid Victories and Dumbass Defeats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes from here to there to everywhere.  
> Quidditch, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Hagrid's Hut. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Love all your comments and thoughts and theories!!!!!!

Harry had every intention of making up for the last Quidditch match, and so set off for the changing rooms with the rest of the team, iron determination roiling in his veins. The weather couldn’t have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff – a fact Hermione was extraordinarily grateful for. It was a clear, cool day, with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time, and Harry, ignoring Hermione’s undertow of nerves, was starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring. He could feel Hermione taking her seat in the stands with the rest of the third year Slytherins as he got into his Quidditch robes, tucking his wand in safely just in case.

“If we lose then we’re out,” Flint said, “and I’ll have to beat someone’s head in. We’ve practiced and practiced; we have the best players … so don’t fucking lose!”

They walked out onto the pitch to the usual mix of applause and booing. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, were already standing in the middle of the pitch. Harry eyed off their opposing seeker, a fourth-year girl by the name of Cho Chang, who was rather pretty.

< Mind out of the gutter, > Hermione snapped in his mind. < She’s a prissy Claw bitch and I don’t like her. >

< You don’t like anyone, > Harry said. < She might be nice. >

“Flint, Davies, shake hands,” Madam Hooch said briskly, and Flint crushed the hand of the Ravenclaw captain. “Mount your brooms … on my whistle … three – two – one- “

Harry kicked off into the air and the Firebolt zoomed higher and faster than any other broom; he soared around the stadium and began squinting around for the Snitch, listening all the while to the commentary, which was being provided by the Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan. With the wind whipping through his hair, flying faster than anyone else on the pitch, Harry felt a deep sense of freedom.

“They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry Potter is flying for Slytherin! Not to celebrate anything a Slytherin does but according to _Which Broomstick_ , the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship –“

“Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” interrupted Professor McGonagall.

“Right you are, Professor – just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and –“

“Jordan!”

“Gods, fine … Slytherin in possession, Draco Malfoy heading for goal …”

Harry streaked past Draco in the opposite direction, gazing around for a glint of hold and noticing that Cho Chang was tailing him closely. She was undoubtedly a very good flier – she kept cutting across him, forcing him to change direction.

< Mmm, not so pretty now, is she? > Hermione said, as Harry shot forward on his Firebolt around the Ravenclaw goalposts, leaving Cho behind.

< Did you or did you not have the thought that our Defence Professor was attractive? > Harry shot back, immediately wincing at Hermione’s high-pitched hiss back at him.

< Stupid fucking telepathic bond, > she muttered furiously.

He ignored her and swung around, just as Draco scored the first goal of the match. Then he saw it – the Snitch was close to the ground, flitting near one of the barriers. He immediately dived, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Cho had dived after him. He sped up, excitement flooding through him, as he closed in on the snitch.

Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered off course, avoiding it by an inch, and in those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished.

There was a great ‘Ooooooh’ of disappointment from the Slytherin supporters. Derrick vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in mid-air to avoid it.

“Slytherin lead by eighty points to zero and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting it through its paces now. See it turn – Chang’s Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long –“

“JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!”

Hermione was laughing now, having gotten over her brother’s previous jibe. She sunk into his mind, looking out through his eyes as he scanned the pitch back and forth. She pulled back as Harry dropped quickly, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, and watched as he suddenly accelerated, focussed on a speck of gold ahead of him – but the next second, Cho had appeared out of thin air, blocking him –

< Knock her off her fucking broom, Me Me, > she snapped. < I can’t believe you’re turning me into a Quidditch fiend but now is the time to win, not be a gentleman! > She clutched Pansy’s hand, chewing her lip as they continued to watch.

Harry turned and caught sight of Cho who was grinning. The Snitch had vanished again. He turned his Firebolt upwards and was soon twenty feet above the game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho following him … she’d decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself. Right then … if she wanted to tail him, she’d have to take the consequences.

He dived again, and Cho, thinking he’d seen the Snitch, tried to follow. He pulled out of the dive very sharply as she hurtled downwards past him. He rose fast as a bullet once more, and then saw it, for the third time: the Snitch was glittering way above the pitch at the Ravenclaw end.

He accelerated; many feet below, Cho did as well. He was winning, gaining on the Snitch with every second when both Hermione and Cho distracted him.

“Oh!” screamed Cho, pointing, just as Hermione noticed the same thing. Three Dementors, tall, black, hooded Dementors, looking up at him.

Harry didn’t stop to think. Plunging a hand down the neck of his robes, he whipped out his wand, tugged on the bond, and roared, _“Expecto patronum!”_ Something silver white and enormous erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at them and didn’t pause to watch, shooting directly ahead for the Snitch. He stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, and Harry turned around in mid-air, holding up the Snitch in triumph, as six green blurs bore down on him in celebration. Meanwhile, Hermione was punting her way through the stand to get down to him. The team collided into him for a big hug and he could hear the cheers of the Slytherins in the crowd below, Hermione cheering in his head.

He met his sister down on the pitch, sweeping her into a big hug when he landed, holding out the Snitch proudly. He beamed at Professor Lupin as he approached, forgetting momentarily all their suspicions.

“That was quite some Patronus,” Lupin said, looking pleased.

“The Dementors didn’t affect us at all,” Harry said excitedly.

“That would be because they – er – weren’t Dementors,” said Professor Lupin. “Come and see –“ He led the twins out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the pitch. “You gave Mr Weasley and co quite a fright.”

They stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Weasley, Finnegan, and McLaggen, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black, hooded robes. Standing over them, with a mixed expression of joy and fury, was Professor Snape.

“A completely banal display of typical Gryffindor cowardly bullying tactics,” he drawled. “Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione had doubled over in laughter watching Weasley attempt to extract himself from the robe, making no attempt to stifle her loud giggles. Harry couldn’t help himself and joined in, loud peals of laughter erupting out of both of them, as they made their way back up to the castle.

Slytherin partied well into the night, the Common Room decked out with streamers, drinks and Honeydukes sweets. Most people had no intention of stopping until Professor Snape entered their Common Room, a grim look on his face.

“Everyone needs to follow me to the Great Hall,” he said.

-/-

It didn’t take long for the story to spread through the whole hall again – Sirius Black had broken into the Gryffindor dormitory and tried to attack Ron Weasley with a knife.

< Now it really makes no sense, > Harry said.

< Maybe he took offence to Ron’s prank on you, > Hermione joked, before becoming serious again. < Jokes aside, I agree … this might sound crazy, Me, but what if he’s not after us? >

< Why would he be going after Ronald Weasley? > Harry replied.

< I don’t know, > Hermione said. < But he should know that we’re not in Gryffindor. The amount of skill and planning it would take to get into the castle and then into the Common Room … it’s not the action of a lunatic. If he can get into the castle, it shouldn’t be that hard to scope us out. Hell, he only has to see you playing Quidditch to know you’re in Slytherin. So, why has he gone to the Gryffindor Common Room twice now? >

< I don’t know, > Harry replied, thinking it over. < He was in Gryffindor … maybe he left something there that he’s looking for. >

< We’re missing something, > Hermione said, < and it’s driving me crazy. I hate not knowing things. > She turned over trying to get comfortable in the sleeping bags they were all in on the floor of the Great Hall. < Ugh, if only we’d been looking at the Map. >

Hardly anyone slept well that night. The entire castle was searched again, but there was no sign of Sirius Black. Everywhere they went next day, they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognise a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. The entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room was now being patrolled by a bunch of surly security trolls with clubs.

Hermione found out several days later that Neville was in total disgrace. He had written down the week’s passwords and then lost them which was how Sirius Black had gotten in. She’d tried comforting him, but his grandmother sent him a Howler which had shrieked loudly about how he had brought shame on the whole family, which had promptly undone all of Hermione’s attempts at making him feel better.

-/-

The following weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend. After a brief discussion on the pros and cons, Harry and Hermione decided they would go, but in disguise, with the Cloak as a back-up. They’d spent a solid afternoon down in the trunk practicing various charms to change appearances.

On Saturday morning, Hermione packed her bag with her usual emergency supplies including a broom, the Cloak, and the Marauder’s Map and they set off to the statue of the one-eyed witch. Zooming along the twisty passage, they stopped at the base of the stairs in order to alter their appearance. Following Hermione’s mishmash of advice she’d stolen from various novels over the year, they kept it fairly simple. Hermione’s hair was charmed fire-red and straight, a homage to their mother, while Harry’s was changed to a sandy-blonde. They both ditched the Slytherin robes having nicked some Hufflepuff robes out of the laundry room. Their eyes curiously resisted being changed colour, but they figured that they looked different enough to get away with it as long as no-one looked too closely.

And so, feeling incredibly pleased with themselves, they set off for a wonderful day at Hogsmeade. They spent far too long in Honeydukes, Hermione nearly clearing them out of the Sugar Quills, before exploring the Post Office. They had a great time in Zonko’s; there were jokes and tricks to fulfil even Fred and Hermione’s wildest dreams, and they left Zonko’s laden down with Dungbombs, Hiccough Sweets, and various other prank material.

The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like staying indoors, so they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.

< Apparently even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it, > Hermione said.

< Even the Bloody Baron? > Harry said, settling down in the warm sun. 

< Even him, > Hermione replied. < I know Fred and George have tried to get in, but all the entrances are sealed shut. >

< Except for that one under the Whomping Willow, > Harry said. < What if Sirius Black is somehow getting in that way? >

< Have you tried going near the Whomping Willow? > Hermione said, taking out some of their Honeydukes sweets. < It is aptly named. >  
< He’s done plenty of other impossible things, > Harry said.

< I think your idea is more likely, > Hermione replied. < I think he’s in the Forbidden Forest somewhere. It’s not guarded. >

< No, it’s just full of man-eating spiders and fuck knows what else, > Harry said. < The spiders can have him. >

Now feeling very warm and full, they decided to call it a day, and headed back towards Honeydukes. Harry leisurely flew them back towards Hogwarts, occasionally pulling a sharp turn just to annoy his sister. He checked the Map quickly but didn’t see anyone in the corridor. Changing back into his Slytherin robes, he vaulted out of the witch’s hump, landing in the corridor. A muttered curse in his mind told him that Hermione had slipped down again, and he turned to help her just as he heard quick footsteps approaching. Thinking fast, he muttered the counter-spell and shut the hump, turning to face whoever was coming, realising at the last minute that his hair was still sandy-blonde.

It was Snape. He approached Harry swiftly, his black robes swishing dramatically, a dangerous look on his face. Harry tried not to gulp. < Don’t come out, Mi Mi. It’s Snape, > he said, trying to look innocent, well aware of his wind-swept wrong coloured hair.

< I can’t fucking come out, can I? > she snarled. < How come you’re taller than me now? I don’t like it. >

“So,” Snape said. “Just what have you been up to today? And where is your sister?”

“Who?” Harry said dumbly.

Hermione pinched her brow in despair. < There’s playing dumb and then there’s just being dumb, > she wailed.

Snape’s lips thinned. “ **Where** have you been today?”

“Just around,” Harry replied, keeping his face calm, well aware he was doing an awful job of lying. Before he knew it, he’d been whisked far away from his trapped sister and down into Snape’s office. < We’re fucked now, Mi Mi. >

“Imagine my surprise when I went looking for you and your sister today,” Snape began, “and was unable to find you. Not in the dormitory, not in the Common Room, not in the library, not even up on the Astronomy Tower. You can only imagine my panic.”

“Not really,” Harry replied before he could help himself, most of his mind helping Hermione climb out of the statue.

“There’s only a crazed murderer after you,” Snape seethed. “So, I go to the Headmaster and find that he cannot find you within the school wards at all.” He shook his head, briefly waving his wand to remove the spell on Harry’s hair. “Everyone from the Minister for Magic downwards has been trying to keep the famous Harry and Hermione Potter safe from Sirius Black, but oh no … did you enjoy your jaunt down to Hogsmeade?”

Hermione had made it out of the tunnel and shoved herself into Harry’s head as she hurried down the corridors. “I don’t know what you mean, sir,” they said. < Don't worry, Me Me. I've got a good excuse for why we wouldn't be in the wards ... we're the Heirs, remember. >

“Turn out your pockets then,” Snape said.

< I don’t get this guy, > Harry said, as he slowly reached into his pockets. < Some days it’s like he really likes us and other days it’s like he wants to put us in the ground. > He laid the blank Marauder’s Map onto the desk in front of him. < Would you please hurry up? >

< I only have little legs, > Hermione replied. < We can’t all be sports stars. >

“And what is this?” Snape said. Harry caught the brief look of annoyance that he hadn’t caught him with anything else.

“Present from Fred and George,” Harry said truthfully, knowing Snape wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“Or a way into Hogsmeade without going past the Dementors,” Snape replied. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. It was often too easy to fool people with the truth. “Let me see, let me see …” Snape muttered, waving his wand over the map. “Show yourself!” Harry snorted when nothing happened, before remembering that he was supposed to be the twin with the survival instinct.

“Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!” Snape said, hitting the map with his wand. Harry watched as words appeared on the smooth surface of the map, as though an invisible hand was writing upon it.

 _‘Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.’_ Harry stared open-mouthed at the parchment as more words appeared.

_‘Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.’_

Hermione was now cackling with laughter over the bond, having to stop to catch her breath from it all. Harry was growing more and more concerned for his actual life as more words appeared.

_‘Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor.’_

Harry closed his eyes in horror and waited for it to be over. < Would you STOP laughing? Your brother is about to get killed for this, > he said.

_‘Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.’_

“We’ll see about this,” Snape said, breathing heavily. He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames. “Lupin!” Snape called into the fire. Harry opened his eyes in astonishment. “I want a word!”

Now utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire, sensing Hermione was also close. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.

“You called, Severus?” said Lupin mildly.

“I certainly did,” Snape said, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. “I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.” He pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin’s face. He continued to stare at the map and Harry had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking.

“Well?” said Snape again. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”

Before Lupin could reply, the door burst open and Hermione ran in. Although she was in Slytherin robes, she similarly hadn’t changed her hair back and the bright red tresses were flying around her bright face.

Snape staggered backwards, his face drained of blood, as Hermione entered. He stared at her like he’d never seen her before, looking like Hermione had slapped him across the face. Lupin looked similarly struck, his eyes suddenly drinking in her appearance. Harry’s eyes flicked between the two professors and his sister, going back and forth before it clicked.

< They both knew our mother, > he whispered.

< What? > Hermione snapped, staring back at the two men who remained frozen. Snape looked like the life was draining out of his body.

< You look like our mother, remember, > Harry said. < Cancel the spell. > With a shake of her head, Hermione whipped her wand out and her hair went back to its usual black curly mess.

Lupin shook his head like a wet dog, blinking furiously, as Hermione sat down next to Harry. “What is going on here?” she said imperiously.

“Get out,” Snape croaked.

“Ok,” Hermione chirped, quickly grabbing the Map off the desk, and skipping out of the room before anyone could protest. Harry meekly followed her. They’d only gotten a few paces down the corridor when Lupin called out their names.

< Ugghhhh, > Hermione moaned. < No-one wants to care about us at a time when it would actually be helpful. >

< Yeah, well, adults, > Harry said, by way of explaining.

“I don’t want to hear explanations,” Lupin said shortly, hurrying them along the corridor. “I happen to know that this Map was confiscated by Mr Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a map. I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can’t let you have it back, either.”

“Why not?” Hermione protested. “You need the password to be able to read it.” She looked at him closely. “Are you saying that Sirius Black knows the password to this? How do you know that?”

Harry marvelled at her ability to delicately place the knife at just the right spot as Lupin recoiled suddenly. He was equally surprised when it turned out Lupin also had that exact talent. “Don’t expect me to come and cover up for you two again,” he said severely. “I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously, but I would have thought that you would. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive. This seems like a poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for tricks and sweets.”

He abruptly walked away, leaving the bond sparking between them, a mournful feeling deep in their heart.

-/-

A letter dropped down on them the next day from Hagrid. Harry frowned as he picked it up as the parchment was damp. He opened it to find that enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read.

_Dear Harry and Hermione. We lost. I’m allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed. Beaky has enjoyed London. I won’t forget all the help you gave us. Hagrid._

< This is bullshit, > Hermione said furiously, her previous woes forgotten. < We don’t even know who’s driving this. They can’t do this. Buckbeak isn’t dangerous. >

They hurried down to Hagrid’s hut after breakfast to find Hagrid seemingly numb with shock at the verdict.

“’S all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin’ there in blac robes an’ I kep’ droppin’ me notes and forgettin’ all them dates yehs looked fer me. An’ it didn’ make a diff’rence and the Committee jus’ did exac’ly what they always do …”

“We’ll help with the appeal, Hagrid,” Hermione said fiercely, while Harry set around to make him a cup of tea.


	22. Hosea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Riverdale, the most batshit show ... the epic highs and lows of high school Quidditch  
> Or just high school in general  
> The highs of Quidditch to the lows of ... well, we'll see. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Sound off below !!!!

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Harry had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day and Hermione had set all their other countless projects on the backburner temporarily, in order to start preparing for exams. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Gryffindor were leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant that Slytherin needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

Never, in anyone’s memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their houses was at breaking-point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears. Both Harry and Hermione were having a bad time of it, much to Hermione’s fury. They couldn’t walk to class without Gryffindors trying to trip them up. It did mean that Hermione got to hex a lot of people though, which mollified her slightly.

As usual, Harry woke exceedingly early on the morning of the match. Feeling incredibly antsy, he dragged Hermione out of the Common Room just as the sun was rising and they went out to the courtyard near the Great Hall to watch the sunrise. Their breath misted in the cool morning air and the grounds were still and quiet. Hermione was blearily complaining about Harry’s incessant need to wake early while Harry surveyed the skies. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though conditions for the match would be perfect. Harry stretched, the sun gently warming his face, when Hermione suddenly shrieked.

Harry looked around frantically, following his sister’s line of sight to the edge of the Forest, only to see the bottle-brush tail of her cat, Crookshanks. He looked at her, waving his hands questioningly. < That’s **your** cat, why are you shrieking? >

< Look, > Hermione said, still staring at the tree line. Harry squinted, standing closer to her, trying to see. The next moment, it had emerged: a gigantic, shaggy black dog, moving stealthily across the lawn, Crookshanks trotting at its side. Harry couldn’t help the small shriek that left him either.

< Your cat is friends with the omen of death, > he screeched, clutching his sister.

She was similarly clutching him as the big black dog trotted along the grounds. < IT’S THE GRIM, > she wailed. Taking her hand, they fled back into the safety of the castle and down in the dungeon. < We can’t tell anyone, > she said. < Everyone thinks we’re fucking cursed. >

< Maybe we are fucking cursed, > Harry panted as they pelted down the stairs. < The dog of death is following us! >

They both remained on high alert for the rest of the morning, particularly as they headed down to the Quidditch pitch for the final match. < I’ve got my wand and my knife, > Hermione said. < My eyes are peeled. >

< I don’t think you can stab an omen of death, > Harry said, as he shrugged into his Quidditch robes, his stomach feeling like he’d eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast.

They walked out onto the pitch to a tidal wave of noise. Harry wrinkled his nose at the sight of three-quarters of the crowd wearing scarlet rosettes and waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them. Behind the Slytherin goalposts, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing black unlike everyone else in green, and a very grim smile.

< Don’t worry, > Hermione said. < I can always push Snape off the stands if all else fails. >

“And here are the Gryffindors!” yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. “McLaggen, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best side Hogwarts has seen in a good few years –“

Lee’s comments were drowned by a tide of ‘boos’ from the Slytherin end.

“And here comes the Slytherin team. Potter, Malfoy, Flint, Pucey, Derrick, Bole, and Bletchley.”

“Captains, shake hands!” said Madam Hooch. Flint and Wood approached each other and grasped each other’s hands very tightly; as usual, it looked as though each was trying to break the other’s fingers, each glaring at the other intently. “Mount your brooms! Three … two … one …”

The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight. Glancing around, he saw McLaggen, the smug Gryffindor twat, on his tail, and he sped off in search of the Snitch.

“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no – Quaffle intercepted by Pucey, now tearing up the pitch – WHAM! – nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Pucey drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by – Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina – nice swerve round Malfoy – duck, Angelina, that’s a Bludger! – SHE SCORES! TEN – ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Angelina punched the air as she soared round the end of the pitch; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight –

“OUCH!” Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

“Sorry!” Flint said, as the crowd below booed. “Sorry, didn’t see her!”

Next moment, Fred Weasley had chucked his Beater’s club at the back of Flint’s head. Flint’s nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

“That will do!” shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. “Penalty to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!”

< This is madness, > Hermione said, as both Alicia and Flint scored their penalties.

An hour later, and it had turned into the dirtiest match Harry had ever played in. Hermione was thoroughly enjoying it, particularly some of the sneaky ways the Slytherins had managed to cheat various times. Slytherin was up by forty points, and Harry was on edge. They just needed another goal and he would be free to catch the Snitch. McLaggen had been marking him closely the whole match, which made Harry smirk. < He’s a complete idiot, > he said to Hermione. < We both see the Snitch and go after it, but I’ve got the fastest broom. >

Harry watched as Draco scored another goal, the Slytherin crowd now screaming so loudly he couldn’t hear the commentary. He resumed scanning furiously; if he caught it now, they’d win the Cup. He could feel hundreds of eyes following him as he soared around the pitch, high above the rest of the game, with McLaggen speeding along behind him.

And then he saw it, a few feet above the grass below, a tiny golden glimmer. Tugging on the bond to let Hermione know, he put on a huge burst of speed and dived straight down, the wind roaring in his ears. He flattened himself to the broom handle as he went, dodging the Bludger sent his way.

He threw himself forwards, taking both hands off his broom, and reached forward and –

“YES!” He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Hermione was screaming in his mind as he soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

If only there had been a Dementor around … Harry felt he could have produced the world’s best Patronus as he flew around the pitch in a victory lap.

-/-

Harry’s euphoria and Hermione’s pride for him winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling into the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

But they couldn’t. The exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows.

Harry and Hermione spent hours upon hours down in the trunk, going over all their study for the year, quizzing each other back and forth on rune translations and potion ingredients. All thoughts on Black, Lupin, their parents, Hagrid, their house were put aside as they focussed on their exams. Hermione refused to let anyone take her top spot in the year.

Exam week began and an unnatural hush fell over the castle. The third years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included a teapot into a tortoise. Harry muzzled Hermione from complaining how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle.

Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam. Hermione didn’t need a Cheering Charm to loudly laugh over the bond when Ron overdid it, meaning Lavender Brown had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour, hysterically laughing the whole way. After dinner, the students hurried back to their common rooms to start revising for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy.

Hagrid presided over the Care of Magical Creatures exam the following morning with a very preoccupied air indeed; his heart didn’t seem to be in it at all. He had provided a large tube of fresh Flobberworms for the class, and told them that to pass the test, their Flobberworm had to still be alive at the end of one hour. As Flobberworms flourished best if left to their own devices, it was the easiest exam any of them had ever sat, and gave Harry and Hermione plenty of time to speak with Hagrid.

“Beaky’s gettin’ a bit depressed,” Hagrid told them, bending low on the pretence of checking that Harry’s Flobberworm was still alive. “Bin cooped up too long. But still … we’ll know day after tomorrow – one way or the other.”

They had Potions that afternoon, which despite Snape breathing heavily over them, went well. They went back and forth on their Confusing Concoction, grinning when other people’s potions turned out to be an unqualified disaster.

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, which Harry privately thought was a complete waste of time and wondered what had happened to Hermione’s campaign to exorcise the ghost Professor. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a hot baking sun, then back to the common room again to continue studying. Ancient Runes went mostly well, although Harry and Hermione got into a furious argument over one of their translations, neither one willing to concede they might be incorrect.

Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

Harry and Hermione went across it twice, each of them entering the other’s mind when it was their turn, except for the Boggart, figuring it was easier to battle a Doppelgänger than a Dementor.

“Excellent, Harry,” Lupin muttered, as Harry climbed out of the trunk, grinning. “Full marks.”

Hermione was bursting with pride when Lupin told her the same thing, after she successfully battled her own Doppelgänger in the trunk. < Stupid Boggart. Like we’d ever be apart. >

< We’re nearly free! > Harry exclaimed. < Just Arithmancy tomorrow morning. Come on, let’s go relax for a bit. We know our stuff for Arithmancy. >

-/-

Late that evening, they were up on the Astronomy Tower, wanting to get away from the panic in the Common Room over the last day of exams tomorrow. Hermione was watching the stars peacefully while Harry threw various equations at her and quizzed her on the various importance of different numbers.

They were just getting into a debate on the properties of the number seven, deemed a very important magical number, when Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He jumped up, pulling his wand out, only for Professor Trelawney to totter out towards them. < What the fuck? > Harry said, lowering his wand. She was dressed in her usual display of sparkly shawls, her spectacles making her eyes look oversized as always.

“Children of Fate,” she said, her usual misty voice harsher than normal. “I said we would meet again.”

< I probably can’t push her off the tower, can I? > Hermione said, eyeing her nervously.

“I must simply go where the winds of fate buffer me, follow what the Inner Eye sees,” she said. “Can you feel it?”

< The strong layer of discomfort? > Harry said, slowly edging away from her and towards the exit. < Sure can. > They tried to sneak towards the exit when a loud, harsh voice spoke out.

_“The time is upon you.”_

They both wheeled around to find Professor Trelawney collapsing onto the stone floor of the tower, her eyes unfocussed and her mouth sagging.

“What?” Harry exclaimed, unsure if he should try to help her.

She didn’t seem to hear him, and her eyes started to roll back into her head. They both started panicking, the bond humming loudly, as she continued to lie there rigidly, looking like she was having some sort of seizure. < What do we do? > Hermione screeched. Harry hesitated between helping her and running away to get help when she spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own:

_“The time is upon you as the light of the Sun fades in day and shines by night. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years and will break free and set out to rejoin his Master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant’s aid and will take what was given. Greater and more terrible than ever before. Greater and more terrible than ever before. Greater and more terrible than ever before. The servant … will set out … to rejoin … his master …”_

Professor Trelawney’s head fell backwards, and her eyes closed as she made a grunting sort of noise. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up again. “Where am I?” she said dreamily. “I must have had a daydream.”

Harry and Hermione stared at her in horror before turning on their heels and sprinting away, not stopping until they were back in the trunk. < What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, > Hermione kept repeating, grabbing some parchment to write it down. < Recite it back to me, Me Me, what did she say? >

Harry shakily repeated back what they’d just heard as Hermione scribbled it down. When she was done, they peered down at the words, hoping they didn’t actually say what they’d heard. “She … just predicted that Voldemort is going to … return,” he said, the words hurting his throat to say.

“She could have waited until after our last exam,” Hermione said.

“Yes, how rude of her,” Harry replied. “Have you lost your mind? She just predicted that Sirius Black is about to fucking rejoin Voldemort and he’s going to rise GREATER and more TERRIBLE than before.”

“It’s called using humour to cope with stress,” she snapped back, her hair starting to spark. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t know,” he said, freaking out. “You’re the plans person.”

“I don’t wanna be the plans person anymore,” she said. “I wanna be the sports star.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to stop him, aren’t we?” Harry stated, hating every word he said.

“Oh yes, just stop the insane murderer who killed twelve people at once and betrayed our parents. Easy, really. Afterwards, we can have cake,” Hermione rambled.

“Look, we have one exam left. We do the Arithmancy and then we figure out what’s going to happen,” Harry said. “Fuck, Lupin has the Map … ugghhhh, how annoying. Well, we’ve still got the Cloak. Sound like a plan?”

“No, it sounds like a vague idea,” Hermione snapped, “but good enough. After all, what do we have?”

“Just Me and Mi,” Harry replied. “What do we have?”

“Just me and mine,” she finished, before rushing into his arms for a hug.

-/-

After their Arithmancy exam, they rushed out into the courtyard, as though expecting to see Sirius Black just sitting there waiting for them. What they found instead was Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

“Hello there, Harry and Hermione!” he said. “Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?”

“Errr … yes, Minister,” Harry said, trying not to look awkward.

“Lovely day,” said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake. “Pity … pity …” He sighed deeply and looked down at them. “I’m here on an unpleasant mission. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a mad Hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in.”

“Who’s the accuser?” Hermione asked politely, looking up innocently at the Minister. “I’m ever so interested in how our legal system works.”

“There’s not one accuser,” Fudge replied, smiling genially down at Hermione. “The Board of Governors is responsible for the safety of the students here, so they manage situations like this.”

Before Hermione could ask another question, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black moustache. The twins gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted towards Hagrid’s cabin and said in a feeble voice, “Dear, dear, I’m getting too old for this … two o’clock, isn’t it, Fudge?”

The black moustached man was fingering something in his belt; Harry looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe. He dragged Hermione away before she could ask anything else ‘innocently’.

-/-

< We can’t let them get away with it, > Hermione protested. < We have to do something. >

< You want to save Buckbeak? > Harry asked, wondering what it would be like to have a simple life. < Even just assuming we manage to do that … then what? Leave him in the Forbidden Forest? They’re just going to assume Hagrid set him free and track him down. >

Hermione’s eyes went wide and the bond sparked loudly as the beginnings of a plan formed in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hosea (from the Bible) is known as a prophet of doom.


	23. Buckbeak, Scabbers, Crookshanks, and the Grim Walk Into A Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the pointy end of the stick, y'all.  
> How are the twins going to solve these problems?
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented. I appreciate y'all so much xxx
> 
> Oh, and Happy Halloween :)

They staked themselves near the Entrance, where they had a decent vantage of the grounds as well as the courtyard. Hermione had everything she could possibly think of stashed in her bag. Ginny and Neville found them there just as an owl dropped a note off to them.

“What are you two doing?” Ginny asked, eyeing off their tense stances.

Harry nodded at her in reply, opening the note. It was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible. Everyone crowded around Harry to read the note.

_Lost appeal. They’re going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don’t come down. I don’t want you to see it. Hagrid._

“Oh no!” Ginny said angrily. “They can’t do that!”

“We’ve got to go,” Harry said. “He can’t just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner! We need to save Buckbeak, for Hagrid's sake.”

“But it’s at sunset,” Neville said, gazing over the ground. “You two aren’t even supposed to be out then … ”

Hermione turned to both of them, her eyes blazing bright. “Can you two keep a secret?” she said harshly.

“I can,” came a voice. Harry whirled around to see Pansy stalking towards them.

< In hindsight, we should have picked a better hiding spot … or an actual hiding spot, > Harry said.

“Hello Heirs, others,” Pansy said, crossing her arms and surveying everyone.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, trying to sound polite. 

“So far, every year, the Dark Lord has attacked you two," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes at him. "So, what are **we** doing?”

“Well, I’ll ask it again, can you all keep a secret?” Hermione said. < There’s no getting rid of any of these people, we may as well just bring them along. >

< That’s the spirit, Mi, > Harry said. < They’re only our friends. >

“I swore an oath to keep your secrets,” Pansy said, “and as difficult as it is to be your friends because you’re anti-social weirdos who keep to yourselves, I am your friend.”

Harry smiled broadly at Pansy. “We’re your friends too, Pansy.”

“You saved my life,” Ginny said. “I will always keep your secrets.”

“What she said,” Neville said.

“There are several things you should know then,” Harry began. “Buckbeak has just been sentenced to death by the Ministry and is going to be executed at sunset. Sirius Black is after us and wants to murder us. And thirdly, last night, Professor Trelawney made a True prediction that Voldemort will rise again.”

“It’s never just one thing with you lot,” Pansy sighed.

“What do you need us to do?” Neville asked.

“We’re going to go down and we’re gonna rescue Buckbeak,” Hermione said. “We have an Invisibility Cloak, which does not fit five people, but we’ll figure it out. But you cannot tell anyone about our Cloak.”

“Well, that’s easy,” Pansy said. “Neville and Ginny and I are allowed out on the grounds … admittedly, we’re an odd trio, but if three can fit underneath, then Ginny and Neville can sneak down without the Cloak.”

“Yeah, that’s easy,” Ginny said, “I’m good at sneaking. I know the way, Nev.”

“Alright, brilliant,” Hermione said. “We’ll figure the rest out down there.” < No point telling them the whole plan now, > she said. < We’ll see if we can pull it off first. >

She swung the Cloak over her, Harry, and Pansy, and walking very close together, they crept down the stone front steps into the grounds. The sun was starting to sink behind the Forbidden Forest, gilding the top branches of the trees. All five of them reached Hagrid’s cabin without major incident and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he was pale-faced and trembling.

“Yeh shouldn’ve come,” Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. He shut the door quickly and Hermione stuffed the Cloak back into her bag. “Who’s this?” he asked, noticing Pansy.

“Pansy Parkinson,” Harry replied. “She’s our friend.”

Hagrid didn’t seem to have a response for that. Harry noticed he wasn’t crying this time. He instead looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. He could feel Hermione’s unease – helplessness was not her thing.

“Wan’ some tea?” he said, his great hands shaking as he reached for the kettle.

“Where’s Buckbeak, Hagrid?” Hermione asked, getting down to business.

“I – I took him outside,” Hagrid said, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. “He’s tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an’ – an’ smell fresh air – before – “ His hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

“I’ll do that,” Pansy said primly, waving her wand and repairing the jug. Hagrid sat back down and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

“Isn’t there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?” Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. “Dumbledore?”

“He’s tried,” Hagrid said. “He’s got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told ‘em Buckbeak’s all right, but it doesn’ matter.” Hagrid swallowed heavily, his eyes darting all over the cabin, as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort. “Dumbledore’s gonna come down while it – while it happens. Wrote me this mornin’. Said he wants ter – ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore …”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked out the window, eyeing off the pumpkin patch that Buckbeak was in.

“We’ll stay with you, too, Hagrid,” Ginny said, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.

“Yeh’re ter go back up ter the castle. I told yehs, I don’ wan’ yeh watchin’. An’ yeh shouldn’ be down here anyway … if Fudge an’ Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry and Hermione, yeh’ll be in big trouble.”

There was a sudden shriek from Pansy as she dropped the milk bottle. “Urghhhh,” she wailed. “There’s a rat in here!” Everyone leaned over as, with a frantic squeak, a rat scrambled out of the milk jug.

Ginny jumped up. “That’s Scabbers!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the rat who desperately tried to escape. She grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. “Remember, my brother thought your cat had killed him.”

< Well, what a dumb git, > Harry said, eyeing off the rat. “It looks dreadful, Ginny, are you sure you should even be holding it?” The rat was thin with large tufts of hair falling out, leaving wide bald patches, and he continued writhing in Ginny’s hands, trying to free himself.

Ginny laughed. “I know my brother can be a twat, but he does miss his pet.”

Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the colour of parchment. “They’re comin’ …”

All five of them whipped around. A group of men were walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.

“Yeh gotta go,” Hagrid said, every inch of him trembling. “They mustn’ find yeh here … go on, now …” Ginny stuffed Scabbers into her pocket as Hermione threw all the cups back into the cupboard. “I’ll let yehs out the back way.”

They followed him to the door into his back garden. Harry felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously. Hermione pushed them out of the cabin, and they crept through the garden, hurrying when they heard the voices at the front of the cabin. She led them towards the edge of the Forest, hiding behind a wide oak trunk just out of view of Hagrid’s hut and watched as the group knocked on Hagrid’s front door. 

“Ok, team,” Hermione whispered. “We need them to see Buckbeak so they don’t think Hagrid just set him free. Once that happens, Harry, you need to go and bow to Buckbeak and lead him back this way.”

“Fuck,” Neville said. “That’s going to give us like max sixty seconds.”

They all peered around the oak tree as the group entered Hagrid’s hut. The cold voice of Macnair came floating out of the open window. “Where is the beast?”

“Out – outside,” Hagrid croaked. Everyone ducked back out of sight as Macnair’s face appeared at the window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge.

“We – er – have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I’ll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you’re supposed to listen too, that’s procedure –“

Macnair’s face vanished from the window, and Hermione promptly shoved Harry out from behind the tree. As Fudge’s voice started again, he quickly vaulted the fence into the pumpkin patch and approached Buckbeak, Hermione’s presence softly in his mind.

“It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the Hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall be executed on the sixth of June at sundown –“

Careful not to blink, Harry stared up into Buckbeak’s fierce orange eye once more, and bowed. Buckbeak sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Harry began to fumble with the rope tying Buckbeak to the fence. < Where’s your fucking knife when I need it? >

“… sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee’s appointed executioner, Walden Macnair …”

“Come on, Buckbeak,” Harry murmured, “come on, we’re going to help you. Quietly … quietly …” He threw all his weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak had dug in his front feet.

“… as witnessed below. Hagrid, you sign here …”

“Fuck,” Harry hissed, as he continued to drag on the rope. Ginny broke away from the tree and vaulted over the fence too, quickly bowing to Buckbeak before grabbing a dead vole that Hagrid had left and waving it around.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” said the reedy voice of the Committee member from inside Hagrid’s cabin. “Hagrid, perhaps it would be better if you stayed inside –“

“No, I – I wan’ ter be with him … I don’ wan’ him ter be alone –“

Footsteps echoed from within the cabin. Ginny and Harry looked at each other in horror, and both of them pulled on the rope desperately. Buckbeak began to walk, rustling its wings irritably, but they were still ten feet away, in plain view of Hagrid’s back door. Hermione was swearing over the bond, both of them sweating.

“One moment, please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore’s voice. “You need to sign, too.” The footsteps stopped. Both of them heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster. Pansy and Neville’s faces were sticking out from behind the tree, their faces pale in fear. Hurry, they both mouthed.

Harry could still hear Dumbledore’s voice talking from within the cabin. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot as they reached the trees, and everyone else quickly bowed before grabbing the rope and dragging the Hippogriff further into the Forest. Harry looked back, breathing a sigh of relief to see they were now blocked from sight.

“Stop everyone,” he whispered. “They might hear us –“

Hagrid’s back door had opened with a bang. Everyone stood quite still; even the Hippogriff seemed to be listening intently.

“Where is it?” said the reedy voice of the Committee Member. “Where is the beast?”

“It was tied here!” said Macnair furiously. “I saw it! Just here!”

“How extraordinary,” Dumbledore said, a note of amusement in his voice.

There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger. There was a sudden howl as Hagrid started sobbing. “Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he’s gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!”

Buckbeak started to strain against the rope, trying to get back to Hagrid. Everyone promptly tightened their grip and dug their heels into the Forest floor to stop him.

“Someone untied him!” the executioner was snarling. “We should search the grounds, the Forest –“

Everyone held their breaths suddenly. Dumbledore replied, “Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot? Search the skies, if you will … Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy. Minister?”

Everyone listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.

“Now what?” Pansy said. “It’s going to get dark very soon, and we’re in the Forbidden Forest.”

Hermione was rummaging through her bag and proudly dragged out the trunk, quickly opening the locks. Everyone except Harry stared at her. She stood up and smiled at Buckbeak, “Get in the trunk, Buckbeak.”

< Ooh, do they eat snakes? > Harry suddenly thought. Without waiting for an answer, he stuck his head down and called Kid and Ty up, tucking them into his pocket.

“Just how big is that bag?” Neville asked curiously.

Hermione grinned proudly. “I finally figured out how to do the Undetectable Extension Charm properly, so my bag is very big indeed.”

“That’s illegal,” Pansy said admiringly.

“Yes, you’re very clever,” Harry said, “but moving on, could someone help me get Buckbeak into the trunk please.”

After a lot of coaxing and Ginny throwing the dead vole she was still carrying down into the trunk, they finally managed to get Buckbeak down into the trunk, and Hermione put the trunk back into her bag. “Congratulations everyone,” she said proudly. “We’re officially all criminals!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Everyone follow me, we’ve gotta sneak back around to the castle now.” The sun was sinking fast now, and the sky had turned to the grey-purple navy of twilight, the last ruby-red glow of the sun disappearing fast in the west. He led them along the edge of the Forbidden Forest until they were close to the greenhouses. After a quick scan of the grounds, everyone sprinted up towards the vegetable gardens, skirting far around the Whomping Willow. They’d just reached the Greenhouse closest to the Forest when a soft squealing noise interrupted them.

They turned around to see Ginny wrestling with Scabbers the rat who had tried to escape again. Scabbers was plainly terrified, writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ginny’s grip. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she whispered.

Everyone hurried back to help her silence the rat but too late – the rat slipped out of her fingers, hit the ground, and scampered away. Out of nowhere, Crookshanks appeared, and sprang after the rat. Without thinking, Hermione and Ginny chased after the two pets, causing everyone else to sprint after them as well, going back the way they’d came.

With a dive, both Ginny and Hermione jumped on the two animals, and Neville promptly tripped straight over both of them. Harry and Pansy skidded to a stop right in front of them both.

“Are you all mad?” Harry hissed. “We need to get back to the castle now! Dumbledore and all them could leave Hagrid’s hut at any moment!”

Before they could even catch their breath or get up however, they all heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding towards them out of the dark – an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog. All five of them screamed at the sight – the Grim!

The dog leapt at them suddenly, its front paws hitting Harry on the chest. He keeled over backwards in a whirl of hair, feeling its hot breath and saw the inch-long teeth –

But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Dazed, feeling as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up, staggering into Pansy as they all heard it growl as it skidded around for a new attack.

Hermione pulled out her wand while Harry frantically grabbed at Ginny and Neville, trying to get them up. They tried to get away, but all tripped again, landing in a tangle of limbs as the dog leapt again, this time its jaws closing around Ginny’s outstretched arm. Neville lunged at it and seized a handful of the dog’s hair, but it was dragging Ginny away as easily as if she were a rag-doll –

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione and Pansy shriek with pain and fall too. Blinking blood out of his eyes, Harry looked around, just as Neville cast a Lumos.

The wand light showed them all the trunk of a thick tree and they each realised in horror that they’d been chased into the shadow of the Whomping Willow and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backwards and forwards to stop them going nearer.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog dragging Ginny backwards into a large gap in the roots – she was fighting furiously, but her head and torso were slipping out of sight –

“Ginny!” Neville shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backwards again.

All they could see now was one of Ginny’s legs which she had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog pulling her further underground. Then a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ginny’s leg had broken, and next second, her foot had vanished from sight.

Harry gathered up Pansy, Neville, and Hermione, and they all stood at the edge of the Willow, all bleeding as the tree continued to thrash at them, twigs clenched like knuckles. Hermione searched frantically for a way through the vicious, swishing branches when Crookshanks suddenly darted forwards. Everyone watched as he slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook. < This is because your cat is friends with that death omen, > Harry said grimly. “All right, team. Let’s go rescue Ginny!” They all ran towards the trunk, reaching it in seconds, following Crookshanks as he slit into the gap in the roots with a flick of his bottle-brush tail. Harry went next; he crawled forwards, headfirst, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Neville, then Pansy followed, with Hermione bringing up the rear.

< We know where this goes, > Hermione breathed, as they hurried down the passage as fast as they could, bent almost double, Crookshanks’s tail bobbing in and out of view. It was similar length to the passage to Honeydukes, each of them now loudly panting, still running at a crouch.

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Instead, Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening. Everyone crowded around it, drawing their wands, as they peered through. It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up. Harry glanced at Hermione who nodded back at him.

Harry pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. He nodded back at everyone who slowly joined him as they crept down the hallway. “We’re in the Shrieking Shack,” he breathed to the other two, their eyes going wide.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. Everyone looked up at the ceiling, Pansy now squeezing onto Neville’s arm. Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide, shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs. They reached the near end of the hallway, the last door slightly ajar. As they crept towards it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring.

Hermione took a deep breath in and looked at her brother. Each gripping their wands tightly, Hermione kicked the door wide open with a bang and burst into the room.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings, lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of Hermione. On the floor beside him, clutching her leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ginny. Everyone dashed across to her, dropping down to the floor beside her.

“Harry,” she moaned, “he’s here … he’s here … it’s a trap! The dog!” Her teeth were gritted with pain, her freckles standing out against her pale face. “He’s an Animagus!” 


	24. Black and the Shrieking Shack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the end of this story, only a few more chapters to go. I've had such a fun time writing it, and reading all your comments, so a huge thanks to everyone who has commented along the way. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

Everyone wheeled around as the door behind them snapped shut, a man appearing out of the shadows.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn’t been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

Pansy screamed loudly, the rest of them flinching at the sight. _“Expelliarmus!”_ Black croaked, pointing Ginny’s wand at them all. All of their wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. He took a step closer, his eyes flicking between Harry and Hermione.

“I knew you’d come and help your friend,” he said hoarsely. His voice sounded as though he had long ago lost the habit of using it. “Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I’m grateful … it will make everything much easier …”

< Everyone loves a monologue, > Hermione spat furiously, not taking her eyes off him, the bond roiling and rising with her emotions. Harry was right beside her, not his usual calming presence, the taunt about their father ringing in his ears and a boiling hate burning through both of them all of a sudden.

“If you want to kill them, you’ll have to kill us too!” Neville said fiercely, both him and Pansy clinging to the twins.

“There’ll only be one murder here tonight,” Black said, and his grin widened.

“Oh, don’t hold back,” Hermione snarled furiously, stepping in front of her brother. “Never stopped yourself before! Didn’t mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew … Gone soft in Azkaban, have you?”

The bond hit boiling point and she threw herself forward, colliding furiously with Black, the both of them crashing backwards. Harry followed her, pushing the hand holding the wands away quickly, and they all crashed through the wall. Pansy and Ginny were screaming, Neville was yelling; there was a blinding flash as the wands in Black’s hand sent into the air of jet of sparks which missed Harry’s face by inches. Hermione kept punching and scratching every inch of Black she could find.

Black’s free hand found her throat. “No,” he hissed. “I’ve waited too long –“ The fingers tightened and Hermione started to choke but Harry jammed his thumbs into Black’s eyes and he let them both go with a grunt of pain, a faint clatter telling them he’d let the wands go.

The tangle of bodies scrambled as the wands went rolling across the floor, but Hermione was the fastest, snatching up a wand and turning –

Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Hermione walking slowly nearer; her wand pointing straight at Black’s heart.

“Going to kill me, Hermione?” he whispered.

Harry swept up a wand and joined her, pointing at his chest too, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black’s left eye and his nose was bleeding.

“You killed our parents,” they said together, all reason gone as rage took over, their wands pointed out steadily. Neville and Pansy were crowded around Ginny protectively behind them.

Black stared up at them out of those sunken eyes. “I don’t deny it,” he said, very quietly. “But if you knew the whole story –“

“The whole story?” Harry repeated, a furious pounding in the bond. “You sold them to Voldemort, that’s all we need to know!”

Before either of them could say another word, something ginger streaked past them; Crookshanks leapt onto Black’s chest, and settled himself there, right over Black’s heart. Black blinked and looked down at the cat. “Get off,” he murmured, trying to push Crookshanks off him.

But Crookshanks sank his claws into Black’s robes and wouldn’t shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry and Hermione, looking up at them with his great yellow eyes. < You just had to get the cat from hell, didn’t you? > Harry said.

< How was I supposed to know? > Hermione snapped. < He seemed cute in the store. >

< No, he didn’t! > Harry replied. < No-one but you thinks this cat is cute. >

The seconds lengthened as they debated what to do next when a new sound came … Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor – someone was moving downstairs.

“WE’RE UP HERE!” Pansy screamed. “WE’RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – QUICK!”

The footsteps thundered up the stairs and the door of the door burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry and Hermione wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ginny, lying on the floor, over Pansy and Neville, cowering next to her, to Harry and Hermione standing there with their wands covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding.

_“Expelliarmus!”_ Lupin shouted.

Their wands flew once more out of their hands. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest.

< Fuck, > Hermione spat. < Fuck, what are we going to do? >

Then Lupin spoke, in an odd voice, a voice that shook with some suppressed emotion. “Where is he, Sirius?”

Harry frowned at the question and blinked suddenly as he remembered their previous theory. Hermione turned to look at him, sending a question mark at him. < You were right, > he said. < He mustn’t be after us. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We don’t have enough information! >

< Who can he be after? This doesn’t make sense, he didn’t deny it, but then who’s the he? Neville? > Hermione said, her mind feverishly trying to sort through any possibility.

Black’s face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn’t move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand, and pointed straight at Ginny. Mystified, everyone glanced past Ginny, who just looked bewildered.

“But then …” Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, “… why hasn’t he shown himself before now? Unless –“ Lupin’s eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, “- unless **he** was the one … unless you switched … without telling me?”

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin’s face, Black nodded. Everyone watched in astonishment as Lupin lowered his wand. Next moment, he had walked to Black’s side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black tightly, each clinging to the other desperately.

“I knew it,” Hermione said savagely. “You’ve been helping him get into the castle, you’re on Voldemort’s side. Don’t trust him,” she said, turning to the others, her voice ringing. “He’s a werewolf!”

Lupin looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. “Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I am certainly not on Voldemort’s side …” An odd shiver passed over his face. “But I won’t deny that I am a werewolf. How long have you known?”

“For a long time,” she whispered. “Since we finished Snape’s essay …”

“He’ll be delighted,” Lupin said coolly. “He set that essay hoping someone would realise what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realise that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realise that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?”

“Both,” Hermione replied.

Lupin forced a laugh. “You’re the cleverest students I’ve ever met, but you Hermione are something else; without a doubt the brightest witch of your age.”

“We’re not,” Hermione replied, “or we would have stopped you earlier. We suspected, of course, but unfortunately other things got in the way.” She had a hard look on her face. < I don’t understand, I feel like I’m trying to jam the wrong puzzle piece in. >

“I have not been helping Sirius,” Lupin said. “If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll explain. Look –“ He separated everyone’s wands and threw each back to its owner. “There,” he said, sticking his own wand back into his belt. “You’re armed, we’re not. Now will you listen?”

< We need to know the truth, Me Me, > Hermione said. < This might be our only chance. >

< I know, Mi, > he replied, swallowing heavily. “If you haven’t been helping him, how did you know he was here?”

“The map,” said Lupin. “The Marauder’s Map. I was in my office examining it –“

“You do know how to work it!” Hermione interrupted.

“Of course, I do,” Lupin said impatiently. “You were right that day, as an aside, Sirius does know the password. Anyway, I helped write it. I’m Moony – that was my friends’ nickname for me at school. I was watching it carefully because I had a suspicion you’d try to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. “I saw Neville and Ginny and then separately you two and Pansy slip down to Hagrid’s. I assume you were under your father’s old Cloak.”

“How d’you know about the Cloak?” Harry asked.

“The number of times I saw James disappearing under it …” Lupin said, waving an impatient hand again. “The point is, even if you’re wearing an Invisibility Cloak you show up on the Marauder’s Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid’s hut. Twenty minutes later, you leave, and curiously go off into the Forest. But you were now accompanied by somebody else.”

“What?” Pansy said, unable to help herself. “Do you mean Buckbeak the Hippogriff?”

Lupin stared at her in astonishment. “Is that what you five were doing in the Forest?” He shook his head. “Buckbeak is not who I mean. I couldn’t believe my eyes; I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?”

“No-one was with us,” Harry said. < What the fuck is going on? > Hermione remained frozen, staring intently at Lupin.

“And then I saw another dot, moving fast towards you, labelled Sirius Black … I saw him collide with you, I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow –“

“One of us!” Ginny hissed.

“No, Ginny,” Lupin said. “Two of you.” He stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over her. “Do you think I could have a look at that rat?”

“What?” she said. “What does my brother’s rat have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Lupin said simply. “Could I see him, please?”

Ginny hesitated, her face clearly saying she thought he was a lunatic but put a hand inside her robes and brought out Scabbers, who was thrashing desperately. Lupin moved closer and Crookshanks stood up on Black’s lap and made a soft hissing noise.

“That’s not a rat,” croaked Sirius Black.

“Sure looks like a rat,” Harry said, holding back an eyeroll.

“No, he’s not,” Lupin said quietly. “He’s a wizard.”

“An Animagus,” Black said, “by the name of Peter Pettigrew.”

It took a few seconds for that statement to sink in before Pansy voiced what everyone was thinking. “You’re fucking mental!”

“Pettigrew’s dead,” Ginny said. “You killed him twelve years ago.”

Black’s face twitched convulsively. “I meant to,” he growled, his yellow teeth bared, “but little Peter got the better of me … not this time, though!”

Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ginny screamed in pain as Black’s weight fell on her broken leg.

“Sirius, NO!” Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away again, “WAIT! You can’t do it just like that – they need to understand – we’ve got to explain –“

They continued scrabbling against each other, but Harry turned to his sister, feeling the bond pulling between them. < What is it? > he said.

< He’s at Hogwarts, > she said. < That’s what everyone said he kept muttering. They all thought he was just after you. >

< You think that rat is really Peter Pettigrew? > Harry said.

< Why not? Black’s an Animagus, why not Pettigrew? > Hermione said.

< Because we researched it, remember. For Transfiguration, > Harry said. < You and your incessant need to know everything. He’s not on the registration list. >

< But neither is Black, > Hermione breathed, and Harry’s eyes widened.

Black and Lupin finally stopped fighting, and Black settled backwards. “If you’re going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus,” he snarled, still watching Scabbers’s every move. “I’ve waited twelve years; I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“All right … but you’ll need to help me, Sirius,” Lupin said, “I only know how it began …” He broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All seven of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode towards it and looked out into the landing. “No-one there …”

“This place is haunted,” Neville said, looking around fearfully.

“It’s not,” Lupin said, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. Hermione too was squinting closely at the open doorway, sure she’d seen something. “The Shrieking Shack was never haunted … the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me.” He pushed his greying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment, then said, “That’s where all of this starts – with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn’t been bitten … and if I hadn’t been so foolhardy …”

He looked sober and tired as he began the story. “I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The Potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform … I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren’t likely to want their children exposed to me. But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that, as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn’t come to school …”

Lupin sighed and looked directly at the twins. “I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted **because** I had come to Hogwarts. This house –“ Lupin looked miserable around the room, “- the tunnel that leads to it – they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous.”

Neither twin could see where the story was going, but they were listening raptly all the same. The only sound apart from Lupin’s voice was Scabbers’s frightened squeaking.

“My transformations in those days were – were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour … even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don’t dare approach it …”

“But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black … Peter Pettigrew … and, of course, your father – James Potter. Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her … I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you two, worked out the truth … And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”

“Our dad, too?” Harry said, astounded.

“Yes, indeed,” Lupin said. “It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will.”

“How did that help you?” Ginny asked, sounding confused.

“They couldn’t keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,” Lupin said. “A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James’s Invisibility Cloak. They transformed … Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow’s attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.”

“Hurry up, Remus,” Black snarled, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger in his face.

“I’m getting there, Sirius, I’m getting there … well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals – you’ve seen Sirius’ big black dog, and James turned into a large deer, a stag – anyway, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts student ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did … And that’s how we came to write the Marauder’s Map and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot, Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs.”

“That’s so dangerous,” Neville breathed. “What if you’d given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?”

“A thought that still haunts me,” said Lupin heavily. “And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless – carried away with our own cleverness. I sometimes feel guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course … he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other Headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others’ safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure. And I haven’t changed …”

Lupin’s face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. “All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me … and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so, I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learnt from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it … so, in a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.”

“Snape?” Black said harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. “What’s Snape got to do with it?”

“He’s here, Sirius,” Lupin said heavily. “He’s teaching here as well.” He looked up at the five students. “Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons … you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –“

Black made a derisive noise. “It served him right,” he sneered. “Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to … hoping he could get us expelled …”

“Severus was very interested in where I went every month,” Lupin told them. “We were in the same year, you know, and we – er – didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of … James’s talent on the Quidditch pitch … anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be – er – amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it – if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully grown werewolf – but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life … Snape glimpsed me though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore, but from that time on he knew what I was …”

“Oh, so that’s why Snape really doesn’t like you,” Hermione said, “because he thought you were in on the joke?”

“That’s right,” sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape cancelled the Disillusionment spell on himself, his wand pointing directly at Lupin.


	25. Snape and the Shrieking Shack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tensions are climbing ... 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what y'all think, and thanks to everyone who has left a comment or kudos so far <3

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. “You’re wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?” he said, his eyes glittering.

Hermione groaned over the bond. < Another monologue, > she said.

< And not even a fucking interesting one, > Harry said, eyeing off Snape nervously. < I wish people would get to the fucking point. >

“I’ve just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your Potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did … lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight.”

“Severus –“ Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.

“I’ve told the Headmaster again and again that you’ve been helping your old flame Black into the castle, Lupin, and here’s the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout –“

“Severus, you’re making a mistake,” Lupin said urgently. “You haven’t heard everything – I can explain – Sirius is not here to kill them –“

“Two more for Azkaban tonight,” Snape said, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this … he was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin … a tame werewolf …”

“You fool,” Lupin said softly. “Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?”

BANG! Thin, snake-like cords burst from the end of Snape’s wand and twisted themselves around Lupin’s mouth, wrists and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started towards Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black’s eyes.

“Give me a reason,” he whispered. “Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will.” Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred.

< We need to do something, > Harry said, looking frantically between Snape and Black.

“Excuse me, sir,” Hermione said, sounding not even vaguely polite, “but WE deserve to hear the truth from our godfather!”

“For once in your life, WOULD YOU KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT?” Snape shouted, looking quite deranged. A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointing at Black’s face. “Vengeance is so very sweet,” Snape breathed at Black. “How I hoped I would be the one to catch you …”

“The joke’s on you again, Severus,” Black snarled. “As long as the girl brings the rat up to the castle, I’ll come quietly …”

“Up to the castle?” Snape said silkily. “I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black … pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay …” There was a mad glint in Snape’s eye that neither twin had seen before. He seemed beyond reason.

“Fuck this,” Hermione snarled and marched across the room, blocking the door. < He wants Black to lose his soul! I’ll kill him myself before I let that happen. >

“Get out of my way,” Snape snarled. “If I hadn’t been here to save your fucking ungrateful skin –“

“Use your fucking brain, you slimy git” Hermione said. “All the clues have been there, we figured out months ago that he wasn’t after us. Stop being pathetic just because they made a fool of you at school.”

“SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!” Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. “Like father, like fucking children. I have just saved your necks, you should be thanking me on bended knee. You would have been well served if he’d killed you! You’d have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black – now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF MY WAY!”

Harry charged forward. “Don’t you dare speak to my sister like that!” he shouted. “And don’t you dare talk about our father either!” < Fuck this, > he shouted over the bond.

As one, they raised their wands. _“Expelliarmus!”_ they shouted. There was a blast that made the door rattle on its hinges; Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down it to the floor, a trickle of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out. Harry looked around to see Neville also had his wand out and had tried to disarm Snape. Snape’s wand had soared in a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks.

“We are so fucked now,” Pansy said, staring at the lifeless Snape. “You attacked a teacher!”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Black said, also looking at Snape’s body. “You should have left him to me …”

“Yeah, because you were being really useful,” Hermione snapped.

Lupin was struggling against his bonds. Black bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them. “You said all the clues were there?”

“We couldn’t figure it all out,” Hermione said, vaguely sulkily. “But why would you keep trying to get into Gryffindor tower? We’re in Slytherin. And everything we heard said our father trusted you beyond all others. Why would you betray him?”

“We did think that maybe both of you were on Voldemort’s side for a while,” Harry said truthfully. “Our theories are a work in process.”

“So we want the truth,” Hermione said.

“Then it’s time we offered you some proof,” Black said. “You, girl – give me Peter. Now.”

Ginny looked up sceptically. “You broke out of Azkaban just to kill a rat? How did you even know this is the right rat?”

“You know, Sirius, that’s a fair question,” said Lupin, turning to Black and frowning slightly. “How did you find out where he was?”

Black put one of his claw-like hands inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat, and held out to show the others. It was a photograph of the Weasley family that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron Weasley’s shoulder, was Scabbers.

“How did you get this?” Lupin asked Black, thunderstruck at the photo.

“Fudge,” Black said. “When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page … on this boy’s shoulder … I knew him at once … how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts … to where Harry and Hermione were …”

“Gods,” Lupin said softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. “His front paw …”

“It’s all that was left,” Hermione breathed, as it clicked.

“Of course,” Lupin breathed, “so simple … so brilliant … He cut it off himself?”

“Just before he transformed,” Black said. “When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I’d betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself – and sped down into the sewer with all the other rats …”

“Why were you laughing then?” Harry asked.

“Cheering Charm,” Black said grimly.

“But you were still the Secret Keeper. You said it yourself earlier tonight … you said you killed them,” Hermione said.

“I as good as killed them,” he croaked. “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret Keeper instead of me … I’m to blame, I know it … the night they died, I’d arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he’d gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn’t feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents’ house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies – I realised what Peter must have done. What I’d done.” His voice broke and he turned away.

“You need to work on your communication skills,” Hermione said flatly. “Saying ‘only one will die tonight’ was not helpful!”

“Enough of this,” Lupin said, and there was a steely note in his voice now. “There’s one certain way to prove what really happened. Ginny, please give me the rat.”

She handed over the rat to Lupin, shrugging. Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.

“Ready, Sirius?” Lupin said. Black had already retrieved Snape’s wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the struggling rat, his sunken eyes suddenly seeming to be burning in his face.

“Together?” he said quietly.

“I think so,” Lupin said, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand, his wand in the other. Harry and Hermione grabbed hands and held their breath as they cast the spell. Ginny, Neville, and Pansy were all holding hands too.

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in mid-air, his small black form twisting madly – the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then –

It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upwards from the ground; limbs were sprouting; next moment, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed, the hair on his back standing up.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colourless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers’s fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose, his very small watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Hermione saw his eyes dart to the door and back again, and bared her teeth at the man.

“Well, hello, Peter,” Lupin said pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school-friends around him. “Long time, no see.”


	26. So Five Friends, Two Professors, One Escaped Criminal, A Rat, And A Cat All Walk Into A Shack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically exactly as the title says ... they also all walk out of said shack.  
> Only like three more chapters to go !!!!  
> I've already started writing the fourth story, 10k words already smashed out. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :) :) I'm excited to finish this story up and dive straight into Year Four with y'all. Lots of love xx

“S-Sirius … R-Remus …” Even Pettigrew’s voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted towards the door. “My friends … my old friends …”

Black’s wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual. “We’ve been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed –“

“Remus,” gasped Pettigrew, and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, “you don’t believe him, do you … He tried to kill me, Remus …”

< He’s lying, > Hermione snarled. < Look at him, the lie is all over him. >

“So we’ve heard,” Lupin said, more coldly. “I’d like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you’d be so –“

“He’s come to try and kill me again!” Pettigrew shrieked suddenly, pointing at Black. “He killed Lily and James and now he’s going to kill me, too … you’ve got to help me, Remus …”

Black’s face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes. Harry could feel Hermione’s rage slowly building up, the bond pulling between them. Neville and Pansy and Ginny hadn’t moved in over ten minutes, each gripping the other tightly, their eyes swivelling between the three men.

“No-one’s going to try and kill you until we’ve sorted a few things out,” Lupin said.

“Sorted things out?” squealed Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more. Hermione watched his eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the door. “I knew he’d come after me! I knew he’d be back for me! I’ve been waiting for this for twelve years!”

“You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?” Lupin said, his brow furrowed. “When nobody has ever done it before?”

“He’s got Dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!” Pettigrew shouted shrilly. “How else did he get out of there? I suppose He Who Must Not Be Named taught him a few tricks!”

Black started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room. “Voldemort, teach me tricks?” he said. Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him. Black bared his teeth at him again. “Scared to hear your old master’s name?” he taunted. “I don’t blame you, Peter. His lot aren’t very happy with you, are they? You haven’t been fucking hiding from me for twelve years; you’ve been hiding from Voldemort’s old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter … they all think you’re dead, or you’d have to answer to them … I’ve heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters’ on your information … and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all his fucking supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they’ve seen the error of their ways … If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter –“ His eyes gleamed madly in the dark. 

“Don’t know … what you’re talking about …” Pettigrew said, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. “You don’t believe this – this madness, Remus –“

“I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat,” Lupin said evenly.

“Innocent but scared!” squealed Pettigrew. “If Voldemort’s supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban – the spy, Sirius Black!”

Black’s face contorted. “How dare you,” he growled, sounding like the bear-sized dog he had been. “I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the fucking spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you? It used to be us … me and Remus … and James …” Black shook his head furiously. “Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. “I thought it was the perfect plan … a bluff … Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you … it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.”

Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; they caught words like ‘far-fetched’ and ‘lunacy’, but Hermione kept noting the ashen colour of his face, and the way his eyes continued to dart towards the windows and door.

“Why didn’t any of this come out in your trial?” Pansy blurted, gulping as all eyes turned to her.

“I didn’t get a trial,” Black snarled.

“WHAT?!” Hermione screeched, the bond now whipping dangerously between the twins. Harry tugged on her hand, keeping her at his side.

“It was the end of the war,” Black said. “I got locked away and forgotten, the last piece of the war. It was easier for everyone.” Hermione snarled savagely, looking a lot like her godfather.

There was silence for a few moments before Ginny piped up this time. “Why has he been hanging out with our family for so long though? And in a fucking boys dormitory?”

“Convenience,” Lupin said. “A wizard family to look after him, the ability to keep an ear out for news, just in case his old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him …” He turned to Harry and Hermione. “I swear to you that we’re telling the truth.”

“Believe me,” croaked Black. “Believe me. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died a thousand times over before I betrayed them.”

“We believe you,” the twins whispered, still clutching each other’s hands, hearts in their throats.

“No!” Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though they’d stated his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, grovelling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying. “Sirius – it’s me … it’s Peter … your friend … you wouldn’t …”

Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. “There’s enough filth on my robes without you fucking touching them,” Black said.

“Remus!” Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. “You don’t believe this … Wouldn’t Sirius have told you they’d changed the plan?”

“Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter,” Lupin said. “I assume that’s why you didn’t tell me, Sirius?” he said casually over Pettigrew’s head.

“Forgive me, Remus,” Black said.

“Not at all, Padfoot, old friend,” Lupin said, who was now rolling up his sleeves. “And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?”

“Of course,” Black said, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. “Shall we kill him together?”

“Yes, I think so,” Lupin said grimly.

“You wouldn’t … you won’t …” gasped Pettigrew, scrambling towards Harry and Hermione, trembling uncontrollably. “Please,” he begged. “Please … you look just like your parents … Harry, you look so much like James …”

“HOW DARE YOU?” Hermione snarled. “How dare you mention them. You’re filth, the lowest of the low. I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”

“Harry,” whispered Pettigrew, his hand outstretched, “James would have understood … he would have shown me mercy …”

Both Black and Lupin strode forwards, seized Pettigrew’s shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

“You should have died,” Black said whispered. “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you.”

Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. “You should have realised,” Lupin said quietly. “If Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter.”

“No,” Harry yelled suddenly, letting go of his sister’s hand and running forward. “You can’t kill him.”

Hermione strode forward, tugging furiously on the bond. < This piece of filth is the reason our parents are dead, > she hissed. < The reason we grew up in a cupboard, half-starved and scared. Why should we not watch him die on his fucking knees? He would gladly watch us die in his place. >

Everyone in the room turned to watch the twins silently argue, some sort of back and forth clearly taking place judging by the expressions on their faces.

< Sirius Black, > Harry said. < He’s our Miss Honey, Mi Mi. If we kill Pettigrew now, Sirius will never be free. He’s supposed to be our guardian, by our parents’ own Will. I want Pettigrew to die, believe me, I want him to die by my own hand. But he’s proof! Proof that everything Sirius says is true. He never got a trial … we can get him one. If he’s cleared of all charges, then we’re free, Mi Mi. No-one can force us back to the Dursleys … we could have someone like a parent in our lives! > Harry was close to tears.

Hermione felt paralysed, rage and grief and hope raging inside of her. < You’re making an assumption, > she said. < He might not even want us. > Her voice cracked over the bond.

< Don’t do that, > Harry whispered. < Don’t. This is our chance, Mi. Our chance to be Matilda and to free our Miss Honey. >

She gazed into his eyes for a long time, the bond burning through her mind, before she nodded silently. They turned together to face the three men. “The world needs to know what he has done,” they said together. “The crimes that the betrayer has committed. That way you can be free, Sirius.”

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands. 

“Very well,” Lupin said. “Stand aside and I’ll tie him up.” Harry dragged Hermione to the side and thin cords shot from Lupin’s wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

“But if you transform, Peter,” Black growled, his wand still pointing at Pettigrew, “if you try and break free, we will kill you!”

Hermione gasped loudly and turned to Harry. < Break free! > she shouted. It took Harry a few seconds before it clicked.

< Oh fuck! > he said. < He’s the servant! The chained servant who will break free and rejoin Voldemort! >

< We forgot, > Hermione panicked. < We were so focussed on Sirius, distracted by everything ... we should have killed him … we still can. > She turned with her wand outstretched but Harry grabbed her.

< No! > he said firmly. < We need Sirius. There has to be another solution, something we’re not seeing. What did the prophecy say again? > They went back over the words together, trying to parse something out, oblivious to everyone now staring at them curiously, trying to figure out what they were doing.

< Fuck it, > Hermione said. < You have to be conscious and able to walk to break free. > This time Harry let her go and she marched towards the bound Pettigrew and smiled down sweetly at him. “I’d love to kill you, but my brother makes a good argument.” Still smiling, she cast a Shattering Curse at his leg before quickly silencing his screams by knocking him out. She looked up to see everyone staring at her. “Now he definitely can’t escape,” she shrugged.

< Hang on, > Harry said. < He still could wake up. Put him in the trunk … that way he definitely can’t escape! > Hermione dropped to the ground and rumbled frantically through her bag, finally pulling the trunk out. Harry started dragging Pettigrew’s limp body towards it, looking up to see everyone frozen again staring at them. “He can’t break free if he’s trapped down in our trunk,” he said, as Hermione grabbed Pettigrew and helped him shove him down into the trunk. “Don’t kill him, Buckbeak,” he shouted down at the Hippogriff, slamming the lid down. 

“You two are something else,” Pansy said.

“Right,” Lupin said, suddenly business-like, his expression showing he had no idea how to respond to the twins. “Ginny, I can’t mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it’s best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing.” He hurried over to Ginny, bent down, and tapped her leg with his wand, muttering _“Ferula!”_. Bandages spun up her leg, strapping it tightly to a splint.

“What about Professor Snape?” Neville asked, looking down at Snape’s prone figure nervously.

“There’s nothing seriously wrong with him,” Lupin said, ignoring Sirius and Hermione’s snorts, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. “You were just a little – over-enthusiastic. Still out cold. Er – perhaps it will be best if we don’t revive him until we’re safely back in the castle. We can take him like this … _Mobilicorpus!”_ As though invisible strings were tied to Snape’s wrists, neck and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. “Right,” Lupin said. “Everyone ready?”

Pansy and Neville helped Ginny stand, the three of them limping forward together. Harry stared around the room. < Another weird party, > he said to Hermione.

< This might be our weirdest yet, > she muttered. Crookshanks led the way down the stairs; Lupin following the cat carefully. Pansy, Neville, and Ginny went next, looking like weird contestants in a six-legged race. Next came Professor Snape, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by his own wand, which was being pointed at him by Sirius. Harry and Hermione brought up the rear.

“You know what this means?” Sirius said abruptly to the twins, as they made their slow progress along the tunnel. “Turning Pettigrew in?”

“Umm … you’re free?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Sirius said. “But I’m also … I don’t know if anyone ever told you two – I’m your godfather.”

“We know,” Harry said.

“Well … your parents appointed me your guardian,” Sirius said stiffly. “If anything happened to them …”

Harry and Hermione stared at him silently, holding their breath.

“I’ll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle,” Sirius said. “But … well … think about it. Once my name’s cleared … if you wanted a … a different home …”

There was a high ringing through the bond, Harry and Hermione scarcely able to believe the words they were hearing.

“L-live with you?” Harry said, his voice trembling.

“Of course, I thought you wouldn’t want to,” Sirius said quickly. “I understand. I just thought I’d –“

“Of course we want to,” the twins said at once. “Have you got a house? When can we live with you?”

Sirius turned right around to look at them. “You want to?” he said nervously. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, we mean it!” they replied, the bond practically singing between them.

Sirius’ gaunt face broke into the first true smile they’d seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger was shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognisable as the handsome man who had laughed at their parents’ wedding, all those years ago.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Ginny, Neville, Pansy, and Lupin clambered upwards without any sound of savaging branches.

The grounds were very dark now, the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Harry and Hermione were buzzing back and forth over the bond, discussing all the possibilities of living with Sirius. They tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger.

“I can’t believe what these two get themselves into,” they heard Pansy mutter to Neville, Ginny giggling softly. Snape was still drifting weirdly ahead of Sirius, his chin bumping on his chest. And then –

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight.

Snape collided with Lupin who had stopped abruptly. Sirius froze. He flung out his arm to make Harry and Hermione stop. Neville, Ginny, and Pansy turned around to see that Lupin had gone rigid, his limbs then starting to shake.

“Oh fuck!” Hermione gasped. “He didn’t take his Potion!”

“He’s turning!” Pansy shrieked.

“Run,” Sirius whispered. “Run! Now!”

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin’s head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks’s fur was on end again, he was backing away –

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from the twins’ side. He had transformed. The enormous, bear-like dog bounded forwards, seizing the werewolf about the neck and pulling it backwards, away from them all. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other. The rest remained frozen. The fight didn’t last long, the werewolf eventually howling loudly and taking flight, galloping off into the Forest. Sirius turned back to them, gashes across his muzzle and back, before swiftly turning back into his gaunt self and hurrying towards them. “Do you know what the word ‘run’ means”? he hissed at them, waving his wand and lifting Snape up again.

The group hurried towards the castle when Pansy paused, turning around in confusion. “What am I feeling?” she whispered, her breath coming out like ice. Sirius suddenly collapsed down onto all fours, his hands over his head, moaning.

Panicking now, Harry and Hermione looked around and saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass towards them, the icy cold reaching out in front of them. They felt the familiar fog engulf them, the bond dimming. Ginny and Neville were sobbing, Pansy frozen beside them.

Harry felt his sister’s grief and fear rising and shouted over the bond to her, < Think of something happy, Mi Mi! > He raised his wand, blinking furiously to try and clear his vision, shaking his head as the faint screaming started again. He yanked furiously on the bond, pulling Hermione into him. < Be with me, > he whispered.

< There’s so many, > Hermione said dully, their mother’s screaming getting louder.

< We’re going to be free, we’re going to be free, we’re going to live with Sirius, we’re going to be happy, > Harry chanted. He held out his wand and started casting, _“Expecto patronum!”_

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him but faded quickly, the Dementors approaching quickly. He felt Pansy and Neville collapse near him. Ginny was still sobbing but also hissing in Parseltongue intermittently, her lips bleeding where she'd bitten down. 

< I need you, > Harry cried over the bond. < You said you’d never leave me, Mi Mi. You promised me! >

Hermione fought out through the fog, desperately trying to cling to her brother’s voice, staring around at her fallen friends. Forcing herself upwards, she stared at her brother, their bright green eyes meeting, glowing in the darkness and despair. < Hope and happiness, > she said. < But Lupin said one other thing … the will to survive. > She poured everything she had into the bond, feeling it start to brighten against the onslaught of despair. < If there’s one thing we have, Me Me, it’s the will to survive. >

Harry kept staring into his sister’s eyes, trying desperately to ignore the icy coldness enveloping them. He too poured everything he had into the bond, pushing and pushing all his magic into it, letting his sister take it all. < Me and Mine, > he said.

_“Expecto patronum!”_ Hermione screamed, unleashing the full strength of their bond out through her wand, all thoughts focussed on her brother, on everything they’d ever done to survive over the years. And out of the end of her wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. They watched as it galloped away, lowering its head to charge at the swarming Dementors … now it was galloping around and around the black shapes, and the Dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness … they were gone.

The Patronus turned, cantering back towards them, and they saw what it was. Not a horse or a unicorn, but a stag, shining as brightly as the moon above them. It stopped in front of them, its hooves making no mark on the soft ground as it stared at them with its large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed its antlered head and they realised. “Dad,” they breathed, reaching out with trembling hands towards the deer, as it vanished. The drain hit Harry all at once and he collapsed to the ground, exhaustion taking over. He heard Hermione hit the ground next to him. They fought to stay conscious but the last of their strength left, and they surrendered to the darkness.


	27. Is This A Hospital Wing Or Not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're out of the shack!!   
> Thanks to everyone who has commented, I love all your thoughts and ideas and compliments so much. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> :)

Hermione awoke in a panic, only relaxing when she saw that Harry had similarly awoken with her. She glanced around to find they were in the Hospital Wing once again. < Well, we’re alive and I’m pretty sure we have our souls, > she said.

< That was pretty incredible magic, > Harry said, smiling faintly at her.

< I could only do it because of you, > she replied, blinking back tears as she thought of the beautiful stag that had saved them. The rest of the night slammed back into them and they scanned the rest of the Hospital Wing, panicking again when they only counted three other people. < Who’s missing? > she hissed.

Harry threw himself out of bed just as Madam Pomfrey appeared. Before she could say anything, they heard the approaching voices of Fudge and Snape. < There’s only Pansy, Neville, and Ginny here. Where’s Sirius? > Harry said, trying to listen to the approaching conversation.

“Shocking business … shocking … miracle none of them died … never heard the like … by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape …”

“Thank you, Minister.”

“Order of Merlin, Second Class, I’d say. First Class, if I can wrangle it!”

“Thank you very much indeed, Minister.”

“Nasty cut you’ve got there … Black’s work, I suppose?”

“As a matter of fact, it was the Potter twins, Minister …”

“No!”

“Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behaviour. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. Obviously, it’s not their fault, but their interference might have permitted Black to escape … I’m afraid they have a rather high opinion of themselves …”

“Ah, well, Snape … the Potter twins, you know … we’ve all got a bit of blind spot where they’re concerned.”

Harry turned to look at his sister in horror as they listened to the conversation.

“… what amazes me most is the behaviour of the Dementors … you’ve really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?”

“No, Minister. By the time I had come around, they were heading back to their positions at the entrances … Everyone else was unconscious. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle.”

< Fuck no, > Hermione said, and jumped out of bed. “Where is he?” she shouted loudly. “Where IS HE?” 

Next second, Cornelius Fudge and Snape, having heard her shout, had entered the ward. “You should be in bed,” Fudge said, looking agitated. “Have they had any chocolate?” he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

“Minister, listen!” Harry said. “Sirius Black’s innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! He’s the one who betrayed our parents!”

Fudge was shaking his head with a small smile on his face. “Harry, you’re very confused, you’ve been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we’ve got everything under control …”

“YOU HAVEN’T!” Hermione yelled. “YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!”

“You see, Minister?” Snape said. “Confunded, both of them … Black’s done a very good job on them …”

“Minister! Professor!” Madam Pomfrey said angrily. “I must insist that you leave. These are my patients, and they should not be distressed!”

“I’m about to distress everyone,” Hermione snarled. “They need to listen to us!” She turned around, frantically searching around her bed for her bag.

The door to the Hospital Wing opened again and Dumbledore entered. Pomfrey took the opportunity and stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into Harry’s mouth. Dumbledore surveyed the room.

“I have just been talking to Sirius Black –“

“I suppose he’s told you the same fairy tale he’s planted in their mind?” Snape interrupted furiously. “Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive –“

“That, indeed, is Black’s story,” Dumbledore said, surveying Snape closely through his half-moon spectacles.

“And does my evidence count for nothing?” Snape snarled. “Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him in the grounds.”

“That’s because we knocked you out, you insufferable bat,” Hermione snapped, finally spotting her bag – it had fallen underneath the bed.

“Miss Potter, for the last time, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

“Now, Snape,” Fudge, startled, “the young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances –“

“AHA!” Hermione yelled, brandishing her bag about like a sword. “We can prove it.”

Fudge’s face clearly showed he thought she’d completely lost her mind.

A loud thump distracted everyone, and Neville pulled himself to his feet, having got caught up in the bedsheet. “They’re telling the truth,” he protested.

“For the gods’ sake!” Madam Pomfrey said hysterically. “Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist –“

“The Dementors should have arrived by now,” Fudge said, looking at a large gold pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat. “I should go and meet them.” 

“You can’t leave,” Harry protested. “You MUST listen to us!” He gave Snape the deepest look of disgust he could muster. < Creepy prophet twin speak time? >

Before Hermione could reply, there was a loud screech as Pansy flew out of bed and tackled the Minister to the ground. “Oh no, I’m Confunded,” she said, still holding him to the ground.

Hermione wrenched the trunk out and waved her wand, and everyone stared in amazement as the bound Pettigrew flew out and smashed onto the ground of the hospital floor. Harry and Hermione stepped towards the Minister, who was staring in utter shock at Pettigrew. “Listen to us, Minister,” they intoned, their eyes glowing brightly. “A deep injustice has been carried out against our godfather, Sirius Black, who never got a trial. His imprisonment was unlawful. You must right this wrong … we fear all magic will judge you unworthy if you do not.”

Fudge looked utterly flabbergasted, fear creeping into his eyes as the twins laid down their sentence. “I … well … a trial … j-j-judgement?” He blinked furiously, trying to pull himself together. “I suppose I could hear what Black has to say.”

Dumbledore was silent but Snape stepped forward. “Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen,” he breathed. “You haven’t forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven’t forgotten that he once tried to kill me?”

“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly. Snape turned on his heel and marched out of the Hospital Wing.

Fudge stood up and collected himself. “If you will excuse me, I will go and fetch Sirius Black,” he said, and promptly swept out of the Hospital Wing, almost tripping in his haste to get away from the twins.

Harry hurried over to Pansy, helping her up, while Hermione went over to help Neville. Ginny was still unconscious in bed, although her leg looked to be healed. < We did it, > she whispered, still scarcely able to believe that they’d survived at all.


	28. End of the Third

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter is here!!  
> Thanks to everyone who had read along, left a comment, or left a kudos - I love y'all lots. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

When Harry and Hermione woke up the next day in the hospital wing, the school was in an absolute uproar. Fudge, it seemed, had wasted no time and had spread the news in the _Daily Prophet_ , worded to make it look like he’d been directly involved in uncovering the truth. It had taken time yesterday to bring him around but Pettigrew being alive with a Dark Mark clearly branded on his left arm was fairly indisputable proof. The news of Sirius Black’s innocence spread throughout the country quickly along with the news of an upcoming trial against Peter Pettigrew. After the events of yesterday, Pettigrew had been taken into custody by the Aurors, and Sirius had been taken to St Mungo’s, the magical hospital, in order to recover from his prolonged Dementor exposure.

Harry and Hermione crept out of the Hospital Wing later, taking advantage of the Hogsmeade trip which meant the castle was now fairly deserted, and sat out under the blazing sun near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water. Just as Hermione was about to speak, a shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them.

“Can’ believe what happened … Black bein’ innocent,” he said, “and guess what?”

“What?” they said, pretending to look curious.

“Beaky! He escaped! He’s free! Bin celebratin’ all night!”

“That’s great, Hagrid,” Harry said, kicking his sister who was close to laughter.

“Yeah … can’t’ve tied him up properly,” Hagrid said, gazing happily out over the grounds. “I was worried this mornin’, mind … thought he mighta met Professor Lupin in the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin’ las’ night …”

“What?” Hermione said, her expression dropping.

“Blimey, haven’ yeh heard?” Hagrid said, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. “Er – Snape told everyone this mornin’ … thought everyone’d know by now … Professor Lupin’s a werewolf, see. An’ he was loose in the grounds las’ night. He’s packin’ now, o’ course.”

“He’s packing?!” they exclaimed, looking alarmed. < This is not how this morning is supposed to go, > Harry groaned.

“Leavin’, isn’ he?” Hagrid said, looking surprised. “Resigned firs’ thing this mornin’. Says he can’ risk it happenin’ again.”

Harry and Hermione promptly scrambled to their feet and pelted back towards the castle, leaving Hagrid in their dust. < It’s not fair, > Hermione said.

< Nothing in this world is, > Harry said. < We should have known we wouldn’t win it all. >

Lupin’s office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow’s empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk, and only looked up when they knocked on the door.  
“I saw you two coming,” Lupin said, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over; it was the Marauder’s Map.

“We just saw Hagrid,” Harry said. “And he said you’d resigned? It’s not true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Lupin said. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

“Why?” Harry said. “The Ministry of Magic don’t think you were helping Pettigrew, do they?”

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry and Hermione. “Of course not,” he said with a soft smile. “You two did the most wondrous thing yesterday, when you proved Sirius’ innocence. You truly are your parents’ children.” He sighed and looked down, a hard look crossing his face. “Severus … well, he – er – accidentally let slip that I’m a werewolf this morning at breakfast.”

Hermione’s face narrowed into a dangerous expression. Harry gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not leaving just because of that!” Harry protested.

Lupin smiled wryly. “This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents – they will not want a werewolf teaching their children. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you … that must never happen again.”

“You’re the best Defence teacher we’ve ever had,” Hermione said, in a hard voice. “And we thought that even though we spent half the year thinking you were in league with Voldemort. You were friends with our parents … please don’t go!”

Lupin shook his head and didn’t speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. “I don’t have a choice, Hermione, I’m sorry.” He straightened up and looked at her again. “From what the Headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night. Tell me about your Patronus.”

Lupin smiled proudly at both of them as they told him what had happened with the Dementors. “I know your parents look down on you with the utmost pride every single day. I’m sure you’ve heard it many times before, but you look so much like them. But it’s more than that, I see so much of them in you, in everything you do.” There were tears in Lupin’s eyes and Hermione was resolutely not looking at anyone, the bond echoing mournfully between them.

“Thank you,” Harry said softly, something aching deep inside his chest.

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers and turned to look at them again, holding out the Map. “As I am no longer your teacher, I don’t feel guilty about giving this back to you as well. It’s no use to me, and I daresay you two will find uses for it. James would be very happy that you two found the map.”

There was a knock on the door, and Hermione hastily stuffed the Marauder’s Map into her bag, turning to see Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t look surprised to see them there. “Your carriage is at the gates, Remus,” he said.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Lupin replied, picking up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank. “Goodbye Hermione, Harry,” he said, smiling. “It has been a real pleasure and an honour teaching you. I feel sure we’ll meet again some time. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage …”

“Goodbye, then, Remus,” Dumbledore said soberly. With a final nod, Lupin shuffled past Dumbledore and left the office. Too late, Harry realised this left them trapped in a room with Dumbledore standing at the door.

“You two should be very proud of each other after last night,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I imagine getting Sirius back …” He trailed off. Hermione clenched her teeth to stop herself from saying something that would only get them in trouble. “I suppose you think you will be living with him now,” Dumbledore said.

“He is our godfather,” Harry said firmly. “It was our parents’ wish that he raise us. The cruel twist of fate that prevented that has been untwisted.”

“I cannot force you to return to the Dursleys’,” Dumbledore said, “but I would strongly recommend that you do. I am not saying this to be cruel, but you are protected there more than you know. There are blood wards on that house, an extension of your mother’s protection.”

“And just how did there come to be blood wards at that house?” Hermione asked, her eyes flashing dangerously. < That’s old magic, Me, and it’s also blood magic which is considered Dark magic. >

“I put them there,” Dumbledore said simply. “I know we have been at odds at times, but I have only ever been interested in protecting you. Voldemort will rise again, and when he does, he will be hunting you. Your mother’s protection lies on that house, I would not throw it away if I were you.”

-/-

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station, Harry and Hermione settled into their compartment, beginning to map out all their plans for the Summer holidays. < All right, Mi, > Harry said, stretching out. < What’s the plan? >

< Are we in agreeance that we’re not going back to the Dursleys? > she said, pulling out some parchment to scratch some notes. Harry gave her a deadpan look. < Just had to check, > she laughed. < Maybe that miserable old goat’s guilt trip worked on you … you never know. I can’t believe he put blood wards up. Do you realise what that means? >

< You can skip the question part of the talk, Professor, and just tell me the answer, > Harry joked.

Hermione shot him a filthy look before continuing on. < You need blood to do blood magic, Me. It means he took our mother’s blood … no doubt from her dead body, in order to cast those wards. >

Harry stared at her, utter horror and revulsion on his face. < He took our dead mother’s blood? > he breathed.

< I mean, I’m sure he’s right, > Hermione said. < We would be safe from Voldemort at that house, the blood wards would stop him from entering. >

< They’re still meaningless, > Harry snapped. < They didn’t stop Uncle Vernon from breaking my arm, from Aunt Petunia starving us. That manipulative old coot can fuck off. I don’t think you’ve realised the other thing he did. >

< I thought we were skipping the question part of the lecture, > Hermione jibed.

< What are his roles, Mi Mi? > he asked. Hermione frowned at that, thinking it through. Harry saw the exact moment that it clicked in her mind. < Exactly, > he said in a hard voice. < Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot. I checked … he was Chief Warlock when Sirius was arrested. No trial for the one person standing in the way of us going to the Dursleys … what an awful coincidence. >

Hermione had an extremely dark look on her face. < There are no coincidences with someone as powerful as him, > she said. < It didn’t make sense to me … what we heard in the Three Broomsticks that day. How did Hagrid manage to be the first one on scene, the first one to find us … and he was sent there on Dumbledore’s orders, which meant he knew about it well before Hagrid arrived. And despite Sirius being the only one who actually knew the truth behind the Fidelius, he still wasn’t the first one on scene. >

< We asked him back in first year, and again in second year, why Voldemort wanted to kill us when we were babies. He wouldn’t tell us, > Harry said. < He knows something … a lot of things, really … that we don’t but should know. We need to try and find out. >

< Speaking of things we need to find out, > Hermione said. < We need to see if we can access our old home … we need to see if there any clues about what we heard our mother say that night. >

< Sounds like a fun Summer holiday ahead of us, > Harry said, looking up as someone knocked on the door. Ginny, Neville, and Pansy stuck their heads around the door, and Harry waved them in. “Well, Neville,” he said, “you weren’t kidnapped by Voldemort this year!”

“Having my leg broken was still better than all of last year,” Ginny joked.

“You’re both mad,” Pansy said. “But it was a completely mad adventure, so I suppose that makes sense. I mean, it had it all. Breaking the law, uncovering a decade old mystery, nearly being eaten by a werewolf, being attacked by Dementors. Do **not** sign me up for the next one.”

Harry smirked. “I know you had a wonderful time, Pans,” he said. “And we absolutely will invite you on the next one.”

The twins spent the next few hours forgetting all the horrible mysteries still entangling them, laughing about their adventures with their friends. As they left the compartment, Harry grabbed Ginny before she could leave.

“I had hoped a better year wouldn’t involve our slightly mental godfather breaking your leg,” he said. “We’re really sorry about that.”

“Oh,” she said, “it’s nothing compared to possession. Pomfrey healed it in seconds.”

“Ginny, if you could do anything at all, what would you do?” Harry asked, ignoring the weird look his sister gave him.

“That’s easy,” Ginny said. “Fly for the Holyhead Harpies. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Harry said. “Have a good Summer, Gin. We’ll see you next year.” Hermione raised an eyebrow at him as he sat back down. < She really helped us, in the Shack. We wouldn’t have found out half of the stuff if she hadn’t been carrying Pettigrew. And she got her leg broken in the process. >

< Yes, I’m well aware, but there’s something else jangling in your mind, > Hermione said.

< Imagine Ron’s face when we send Ginny a fancy new broomstick and she makes the Quidditch team before him, > he said, grinning meanly at his sister who broke into loud laughter.

They were nearly back in London when Harry finally brought up what they’d been skirting about. < Do you think he really meant it? > he said heavily.

Hermione sighed loudly. < There’s something to be said for repression, you know, > she said, putting her book away and closing the trunk, stuffing it into her bag to give her some time to answer without her voice trembling. < We’ll just have to ask him … if he didn’t really mean it, then that’s fine … we still have our own home with our own wards. >

“Oh shit,” Harry said out loud, causing Hermione to drop her bag with a loud thump. “We totally forgot about Dobby.”

Hermione shrieked as there was a loud crack and Dobby appeared out of thin air, grinning broadly. “You is calling, Master Harry?” the elf said. Harry stared at the little elf, his mind scrambling for something to say.

Hermione stuck out her hand. “Can you take us home please Dobby?” A loud crack later and they were safely back in Potter Manor, home at last. < I’m so glad that worked, > she said, looking down at her brother who had faceplanted onto the ground. < I honestly had no idea. >

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End !!
> 
> See you all in Fourth Year :)
> 
> For everyone who has read this story, thank you so much!!!  
> Feel free to leave a comment to let me know what you think, what your favourite part was, etc.  
> Hope you enjoy Part 4!


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